The Bet He Lost
by sevenfivetwo
Summary: When Link bets his precious clothes just for a team to win in a brawl, all hell breaks loose. Read and discover the dramatic consequences to the loss of this bet, the embarrassment he has to face, and the amusing enlightenment of his friends. Ike/Link. R&R.
1. Previous Day — Prologue

"The Bet He Lost"

By animefan752

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**First edited in 10/3/11; edited again in 12/31/11; finally fixed in 8/14/12**

**Summary:** When Link immaturely bets his clothes for a winning team in a brawl, all hell breaks loose.

**Caution:** There is nothing too dreadful to warn you about, my beloved readers, at least not in this chapter. Of course, I can only warn you beforehand of that particularly blissful _yaoi _in the future, otherwise known as the lovable intimacy or relationship between two males, that of _you-know-who_. Although, depending on the reader, I suppose, there is some crack, humor, randomness, and of course ― some foul language! That's always something to look forward to, huh? (I'm not entirely certain whether I'm trying to be sarcastic or serious with that question. Let's just say it's rhetorical.)

**Disclaimer: **Super Smash Bros does not belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo and company, respectively.

**12/31/11 A/N: **Please don't mind the slight (perhaps not so slight,) changes to the fanfic. I just could not fathom how immature and lamely I wrote beforehand. I mean, I attempted to keep the fanfic somewhat similar to the way it was before, ― though, I never really took anything out or drastically changed any part to the point that it's a whole new fanfic altogether. Just to let you know.

**A/N:** Well, _enjoy_, my beloved readers! Hopefully I cleaned after the minor problems properly and finally eradicated those pesky grammar mistakes! Those Grammar-Nazis out there, I appreciate your thoughtful criticisms, for if it weren't for you guys, I never would've discovered the false sentence structures and grammar errors! But anyhow, indulge on this little lighthearted fanfic, my beloved readers! Thank you!

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A long, beefy leg stretched further and further into the sky, creating the ultimate suspense until it could stretch no more, when ― there was a loud _crash_! The frightening foot came plunging down to the floors below and crashed right into the ground. Bowser was immediately sent hurling into the sky and off the quaking battlefield. As a result, the red-headed antagonist taunted with his cape flying in the air behind him, his malicious chuckles echoing throughout the stage.

_A point for Ganondorf!_

From the room in which others may observe this brawl, there were two swordsmen who dealt rather mischievously with one another. The first swordsman, the one with soft blue hair and mysterious eyes, thought the almighty koopa, _Bowser_, would be the one to rule the brawl. While the other, with his dirty blond locks and pointed Hylian ears, believed the great mastermind behind the Twilight Realm, _Ganondorf_, would definitely claim victory for himself.

But of course, with this bet, there was a ridiculous catch, a consequence they concocted on a whim. It _was_ a bet, after all. Still, what they offered was quite unexpected in most cases. They didn't bet for material items like that of frivolous money, ― they were certain they didn't utilize the same currency anyway, ― but instead, the only garments upon their bodies. Their doomed humiliation in front of everyone was at stake with this preposterous bet.

If the Prince's bet on Bowser's triumph was surely the one to win, the Hylian knight must abandon both his only tights and undergarments for the next two whole days. He was definitely allowed to wear his olive-green tunic and his leather boots, sure, but the rest of his honorable apparel was to be completely and utterly discarded. For the next forty-eight hours, the Hylian knight would have to brawl as usual, but with _nothing _underneath his tunic. Pretty malignant of the impish Prince, he must admit, — which in turn only brewed unhappiness and anxiety within the blond swordsman — not that he couldn't devise a foxier punishment in head of the pompous Prince.

If Ganon did indeed succeed in the fated brawl, the Prince must strip himself of his entire garb, ― that fanciful outfit, attire, armor and all, ― and frolic about the lengthy hallways and corridors of Smash Mansion. Until Master Hand caught him violating the strict house rules, the formal Prince absolutely needed to humiliate himself. Yet, with that being said, apprehension by the great Master Hand was normally fairly quick. And besides, the Hylian never said he could just run up to Master Hand after making nude. The intense battle of the "bad guys" still had yet to end, but the clever Prince was cunning at spotting loopholes and already thought of a nifty plan _if_ Ganondorf won.

Soon, things were looking up for Link as time gradually passed. Pitifully and pathetically lumbering around the stage, the giant turtle seemed to have no chance in the fight. And so Link's anxiety grew and his heart began to race and punch repeatedly against his ribcage, beating miles upon miles in minutes.

_I'm going to win, I'm going to win!_ Enthusiastically, he chanted in his thoughts. _And Marth will be the one to run around naked and embarrassed! _Ha_, in his face!_

Little did the innocent Hylian know that Marth had briskly arranged some business earlier that very same day. Being the cunning Prince that he was, schemes easily burst in his sapphire head, so it wasn't terribly difficult for him to consult with the two Brawlers before the fierce battle even started. They had agreed to comply with Marth's wishes after their rewarding conversation, thoroughly satisfied with the Prince's guarantees in the end. Although Ganondorf wasn't too excited about it at first, having to lose so disgracefully and all, he eventually concurred to the idea once Link's own humiliation was involved.

_Not so fast, Link._ Marth thought, grinning like the bright mastermind he was. _The battle isn't over yet._

As the Hylian mentally cheered, Bowser suddenly seized an onyx, round ball. It had two round eyes scribbled on it in what appeared to be white chalk, and a single piece of string stuck on the top of its head. Then the string immediately caught on fire as Bowser snatched it up from the ground, and at that exact moment, Link felt his heart drop.

_A bomb-omb!_

Abruptly and hastily, it was chucked in Ganon's direction, in which caught him utterly by surprise from taunting one too many times. Bowser smirked boastfully and revealed his sharp teeth as the evil man was struck and the bomb-omb soon counted down to its last number, immediately exploding at contact with the large male.

The interested Smashers in the observatory bowled over in absolute shock, faltering uneasily on their feet as they witnessed the helpless Ganon at that moment; he launched painfully off the stage and crashed towards the side with a bright flash of light. Bowser automatically gained one point, evening the odds. And now that both Bowser and Ganon achieved zero points each, Link was purely devastated. His mouth shaped itself into a circle, a perfect little _o_ — he must have been too shocked at the mere idea of losing the bet.

"No, ― this didn't, this couldn't!" Stammering pathetically, Link choked on his words. "This can't be―"

Then, the damn timer reached its limit: 0:00! And since neither of the two harsh Brawlers had no points to outshine the other, they had yet to battle it out in the _Sudden Death Round_. Dazed, Link was absolutely stunned, simply at a loss for words, and mentally slapped in the face at this sudden turn of events. Meanwhile the brilliant Prince, at the sight of the brooding Hylian, secretly pumped a fist in the air and hissed victoriously to himself: "Yes...!"

Chuckling softly at his nearing success, Marth calmly approached the single window beside his troubled, distressed, and traumatized friend in order to watch the final round with much intensity.

Once the boisterous announcer bellowed "Sudden Death" as to begin the round that would finally end this unnerving suspense, Bowser and Ganon appeared onto either side of the stage. They instantly dove into combat, where a few clobbering blows were thrown, and a few defending blocks were exploited. But then eventually, the bombs came into play and all _hell_ broke loose. Link was unbelievably anxious for Ganon to win, ― oddly enough, ― beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. The mere thought of _no underwear_ meant _good reputation down the drain_! And he knew that just couldn't happen.

As the nerving seconds quickly evaporated, their percentages rocketed high into the hundreds. And if Link had a rotten habit of chewing on his nails, they'd certainly be gone by now. Prince Marth, noticing the Hylian's amusing apprehension, had to suppress his evil snickers to mere gasps.

They peered in through the glass and followed the aggressive Brawlers with their attentive eyes, abrupt bomb-ombs plummeting around them. On one platform, random bomb-ombs occasionally dropped from nowhere to burst and detonate, while beneath the other, another reappeared once every few seconds! There was nowhere to hide for the desperate Brawlers, and precious time was quickly running out. They scurried around in a lame attempt to dodge the bomb-ombs, but they couldn't hold it out for long as they accidentally knocked into each other. Their bubble shields immediately disintegrated into nothing and in an instant, horror crossed their faces.

"_Shit!_" They muttered simultaneously below their chastened breaths as they lifted their heads to face an innocent bomb-omb soon making its way down, right above their heads.

Then, all of a sudden, everything seemed to significantly slow down, lag, and decelerate. The moment was similar to that of a passionate action movie, with everything in drastic slow motion.

_KA-BOOM!_

Except — they didn't make it.

Astounded, the various witnesses safe behind the glass knew they watched it all happen. With dropped mouths, they gawked in both curiosity and astonishment as the whole entire stage before them erupted into a rampant frenzy of bomb-ombs exploding and shattering. Then, of course, the noisy announcer shouted "Time!" And the overwrought audience went completely wild, bickering restlessly over whoever won. Hell, even Marth was taken aback, ― mainly because Ganon was supposed to fall under the bomb first, at least. Now he didn't know―

"―who won?!" The Altean Prince shrieked, fear striking his every nerve. "Bowser, right?"

"No, no! It must have been Ganondorf!" The Hyrulean knight cried, with the straggling hope and doubt obvious in the pitiful tone of his voice.

As the crowd grew significantly more and more frantic, the appalling results emerged above the stage and clicked onto a revealing holographic screen, which gleamed ever so remarkably. Everyone gasped at the exposed outcome.

**RESULTS:**

Bowser: 0

Ganondorf: -1

_The winner is BOWSER!_

At the mere sight of _Bowser_ and _winner_ in the same sentence, the Hylian's blood instantly ran cold. Oh, Link dreaded absolutely everything in the forsaken world at that very moment, from the bottom of his withering heart! If everything just crumbled away in that one revolting second that the blinding results were revealed despairingly, Link wouldn't have cared the slightest bit. It was simple ― Marth had been right all along. Of course the almighty Ganondorf was incapable of defeating even a measly turtle. _A turtle!_

Upset and dismayed, Link's eyebrows furrowed themselves in frustration as his heart's relentless thrashing and hammering emerged in his chest; that precious little organ suddenly felt two sizes too big, thundering away in the ribcage that suddenly felt too sizes too small. Not only that, but these uneasy butterflies tickled him in his stomach as well, — in that nervous, queasy way.

"N-no, this can't be!" Perhaps even desperate, the Hylian knight strained to contravene, his clammy hands balling up into fists. "Bowser couldn't have won! He just couldn't have! There's just no way―!"

In response to that distressed alarm, Marth scoffed and chuckled softly at his predetermined victory. "You're exaggerating. You should at least acknowledge the fact that there are only two days for you to worry about. I mean, it's not as though this was all meant to be, was it, Link?"

Link only sighed and crossed his arms. "Easy for you to say; you're not the one who lost."

Marth laughed.

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_Look Forward to the Next Chapter!_

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**A/N:** This is just a prologue, so, if it's good so far, tell me, and I'll continue! But if it's horrible, feel free to correct me, because any help with my writing is okay, just as long as you keep off the flaming and the rudeness. Thanks.

So reviews are highly appreciated! Favorites are recommended, and thanks so much for viewing. I love you guys!

Reviews make me smile. Reviews give me motivation. Reviews give me power. :)

**10/3/11 A/N: **Reading this before I had fixed it really took its toll on me! As my skills in writing mature, I was genuinely disappointed in myself, yet at the same time, proud. My improvements have really bloomed over the years! Anyway, for those who have no idea what it's like, or for those who don't know what the heck I am talking about, just, well, enjoy the story as I try to progress with it!

And also, please, please, oh, please, take a second to write a review. I would really appreciate it if you'll take the time to write one. I want to know what you think. I mean, if you _do_ consider writing me one, I thank you. I'm sure every fanfic-writer love to hear from their readers. I know I do. It's proof that our hard work was not in vain. So, please review! I'll accept any constructive criticism, but I won't accept any "I-hate-you-and-your-writing-so-I'll-give-you-a-bad-review" flames, unless you have a perfectly valid reason. That would be much appreciated, thank you.

Now thanks for reading, you guys! I hope you liked it.

**8/14/12 A/N:** Wow, I used to suck at writing. Well, that couldn't have been helped, I guess. Anyhow, don't worry, no dramatic changes were made — I probably would've been too lazy to change that much, anyhow, — but the grammar was finally fixed. Haha, anyway, leave reviews, please and thank you!


	2. Day 1 Morning — Rougir

"The Bet He Lost"

By animefan752

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**Edited in 8/14/12**

**Caution:** There's nothing too dreadful to warn you about, my beloved readers, but there is some light _yaoi_, otherwise known as the lovable intimacy or relationship between two males, in this chapter as well. Again, though, I'll warn you about the crack-like comedy and humor, randomness, and of course ― the foul language! Aren't you all so excited, you're bouncing in your seats? Haha, I'm just kidding.

**Disclaimer:** Super Smash Bros doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo and company, respectively.

**Side Note:** Marth and Link are eating some Italian pasta for dinner!

**Another Side Note: **Don't think of Ike as a pervert because of me ― actually, pardon any strange and awkward moments you may or may not come across (depending on the reader,) because, well, I don't know, but I warned you! That awkward moment comes this very next day, the day Link isn't really looking forward to, and I know it!

**Yet Another Side Note: **"Rougir" means "to blush" in French, if anyone was wondering.

**A/N: **I haven't updated at all in Super Smash Bros! It's really disappointing, especially because now I'm actually becoming a better writer. I recently read my previous fanfiction under Super Smash Bros, and I am extremely ashamed of myself ― hence the edited first chapter, ahem, ahem. Still, this so-called second chapter was hidden somewhere in my email. When I saw it, I was ecstatic! So now, there shall be a continuation! Hahaha!

**8/14/12 A/N:** Yay, continuation! Anyway, just fixing some minor grammar mistakes, so don't mind me! Instead, _enjoy_, my beloved readers! Because I sincerely promise to accomplish a lot from now on!

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Later in the evening, at suppertime, the Hylian attempted rather desperately to reason with Marth. He thought that maybe if he told the Prince how absolutely ridiculous this bet was, Marth would hopefully reconsider the whole thing and forget about it. Then the Hylian wouldn't have to force himself out of his wonderful and comfortable undies.

As they sat down at the dining table, Link took a wild whack at it.

"Hey, Marth." He said casually. "I'm fully aware of the fact that I lost the bet and all that, but there's something I've been meaning to tell you since then."

"Yes?" The Altean Prince politely replied in a nonchalant voice, fixing an elegant, maroon handkerchief below his chin and tucking the delicate cloth into his shirt. The item frivolously stuck out in ruffles. "What, are you chickening out?"

Link flinched; then, of course, Marth sneered at him as he slowly snatched, skillfully spun, and briefly stuck a fork wrapped in some appetizing pasta into his mouth. With a mature gulp, the Prince peered up at him with that inquiring expression. "Well?"

"N-no way; I would never! It's nothing of the sort, I simply — well!"

"You simply _what_?"

"Well, I mean, I―" The flustered Hylian decided to eat, halting his sentence before he could begin babbling pathetically and before his stomach could begin growling. Reluctantly, Link picked up his nifty eating utensils and spun his own forkful of spaghetti, stuffing himself satisfactorily.

As Link swallowed the Italian cuisine up hesitantly, he took a sip at his classy beverage, condensed with small beads of water that trailed down its sides. Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, he indignantly wheeled his head to face the Altean Prince, his cerulean eyes bright. By then, he had something planned to say.

"Well, I mean, don't you think you should reconsider this whole bet? Because, I mean, running around with nothing underneath is just, well, _ridiculous_." Link paused for a moment, thinks, and then, finally spoke. "Wouldn't you say so, Marth?"

The said Prince nodded as a sign of permission; _you may_ _continue_. Link's sapphire orbs glinted, and his heart raced.

"It's pointless, and I'm certain everyone would feel rather violated after witnessing some random individual walking around with no undergarments." Each bold word was spat with confidence, — _not a hint of fear_, ― yet, even if a man were deaf, it was certain that even they would be able to hear how Link's voice yearned pitifully for an agreement. "And I _know_ I have a fairly reasonable point, _Princey_, so don't you deny it."

At this strong, powerful, and most importantly, _desperate_ reply of his frantic Hylian friend, the said "Princey" cleared his throat and simply chuckled it all out.

"I'm definitely not denying it, Link." He said. "It _is_ a horrible idea."

Hope fluttered within his chest.

"―So I don't have to do it?" Link asked a little too quickly with that expectant face expression, brilliant cerulean eyes gleaming and friendly smile growing far too large to even accommodate his face.

Beyond amused, Marth heartedly laughed at his friend's miscomprehension. "But of course you have to do it! Where's your backbone?"

Link's face fell.

"I know it's ridiculous, but a deal's a deal, right? Besides, I would've thought you were the courageous type. Something like this shouldn't bother you." The Prince dismissed Link to his food, and eventually reprimanded him of the fact that crude discussion over matters weren't originally intended for the dining room, whatever the "dire importance" may be. Then, Marth himself took in the last of his dish, lifting his elegant handkerchief up to his face and wiping it clean like he would in the palace.

The Hylian was crushed.

Link didn't suppose Prince Marth had any idea _whatsoever_ as to how this situation sank in for him. The blond didn't think Prince Marth realized the kind of reactions people would have, or how he would feel in that kind of situation. Of course, though, Link perfectly understood that this was all to Marth's benefit and to Marth's benefit _only_.

_Was that how it was going to be?_

The blond Hylian, distressed in his own private room of that accursed night, gave his precious tights one last, painful glance. It plainly stared back at him in his slender hands, soft on his fingertips, but silent and dead nonetheless. Despite that, Link, the vigorous dreamer, imagined it crying in agony, incapable of accompanying him for the next forty-eight hours.

The dresser was neatly scooted against the wall, where his tights would bear dust and webs and other horrible, dreadful things. The Hylian figuratively wept at the visualization of himself harnessed in his olive-green tunic, foolishly scurrying around on the stages without any underwear. It was a forsaken _nightmare_, and Link couldn't bear the thought of having to need to endure it for two whole days.

Yet, regardless of all the downsides, Link knew by heart that he just could _not_ go back on his word. He knew Marth wouldn't allow himself a chance to think twice about how this was going to portray. Nope; there wasn't even one single opportunity of canceling the whole ordeal, and that was a fact — _for certain._

"I'll miss having you on." Link says rather sorrowfully to his inanimate attire, his words dripping of modest emotion. "And, yes, I_ know_ it'll only be for two days, but, I just can't fathom the vulgarity."

_Now, now, it's time to surrender the garment, so just suck it up and quit whining already._

Link sighed, an exasperated and most melodramatic exhale, of which escaped his pouting lips in that _if-only-it-weren't-so_ fashion. His thumb sadly rubbed circles into the cloth, of which grew colder and colder the longer he mourned over it. His tights said nothing.

It was then that Link _finally_ relinquished the item he cherished in such a special love for, gently folding it, _slowly_ and _carefully_, without any wrinkles or creases forming in the process. As slow as molasses could ever be, the Hylian stared grimly at his undergarments like he would stare grimly at a loved one at a funeral. The very next moment, he stalked over to his dresser with such an ache in his heart, his chest tightened.

Laggard, Link drew his drawers open with a soft _creak_ of the wood, looking at the holy spot his tights would be locked in for what Link guessed would be the longest two days of his life.

The underwear was gracefully planted onto the wood of the dresser, comfortably pressed between his dull socks and his other, disinteresting weapons consisting of some empty bottles and the lantern he rarely used anymore. Link just couldn't breathe ― his hands empty, his _body_ to be empty.

"I can't believe this is actually happening."

The very next morning, the very first day of his _death sentence_, Link had gotten up even earlier than usual to physically and mentally prepare for the terrifying future to come. And just so it was clear, he awoke at precisely five in the morning.

It was nine now.

Impossibly self-conscious, Link looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom, judging the way his skin seemed to peek out basically _everywhere_. Well, that would certainly lead to trouble.

Just the night before, Link had worn his undergarments, apparently unaware of the fact that his tights were his only source of body coverage. Since they _were_ what you could call a jumpsuit-slash-long john that concealed his fleshy collarbone, lengthy arms, and an extreme amount of his slender legs, without them, it was practically like strolling around in nothing better than any of the females' attire! If Link were to ever be questioned on how he felt like wearing something so inconceivable without his precious tights, he was positive he'd say: "I feel like a bitch."

Unfortunately for him, he had more than one issue to deal with. And the way his almighty tunic caused him to feel a bit breezier didn't help his situation in the least bit. Sure, the Hylian felt a tad less constricted and that much more at liberty underneath his clothes, but, how would that freedom of going commando protect him, ― protect his _thing_, ― as he brawled in tournaments or went to train or even _sat_ in a random and comfortable sitting position?

How embarrassing!

_Knock, knock, knock!_ The door thudded, leaving a soft noise to linger in his quiet little room. Link immediately reacted in distaste, guessing who the "anonymous" visitor just might be.

"Oh, well, if it isn't the giddy prince here to humiliate me further." Link angrily muttered to himself, fixing and adjusting his tunic over a billion times when the feeling of absolute _nudity_ beneath his clothes was still never to vanish. Realizing this, Link scoffed and returned a snappy bark at the door, "I'd rather not see _anyone_ at the moment!"

Even so, a malicious thought suddenly popped up in his golden head, an evil sneer crawling its way across his fair-skinned face, thinking ― _maybe he could give the Prince a fright as a surprise for this torture!_

"Ah, ― just a second; I'll get the door!" He sang almost suspiciously. "Okay, I'm coming!"

Swiftly and stealthily, he ignored the awkward feeling of being naked and strode to his wooden door with a few, long strides. Excited, Link reached out to grab the knob, as quiet and sneaky as a quiet and sneaky Link could be.

The curious and the carefree knight that he was, he evilly snickered to himself at the astonishingly amazing idea that had coincidentally allowed him a revengeful tactic to be thrown back at the spiteful bluenette. The blonde thought, ― but without _really_ thinking, ― that lashing out at the male behind his door would certainly pay off for the humility he had to face. Not really the brightest plan in the world, but the Hylian stuck to it anyway.

Link took a deep breath and replayed the scene in his head: he would scare the living _hell_ out of Marth, gain some dignity, and forget about the bet. Then, he wouldn't have to risk himself for the infinite amount of humiliation guaranteed! It sounded great.

His clammy hand clasped around the knob, it conveniently cooled Link's warm and nervous palm by its cold exterior. The Hylian gritted his teeth and gruffly released a low growl for starters.

_Let's see how Princey reacts to this!_

He threw the door open with a _snap_ and let out an adorable battle cry to pierce the silent atmosphere around them. Without looking, he shrieked and quickly prepared himself to claw the damned Altean Prince's eyes out, his sliver of a body in a fierce fighting position and his barely armored hands shoved to the front of his chest.

The very next second, he blinked his pretty little aquamarine eyes open and expected a stunned Prince Marth in front of him, expecting the bluenette's eyes wide and his jaw hanging, expecting the male to gape and gawk and be caught off guard.

Instead, Link was the one to be caught off guard.

"_Link?_" Came the surprisingly sonorous response, the voice deep and definitely belonging to the _other_ bluenette he had fabulously forgotten about. The Hylian's breath hitched in his throat.

Iron-rimmed leather boots, dirt-rugged pants, navy blue button-up shirt, of which broad shoulders shaped up and a wonderfully built body resided. Indigo strands of hair sticking up in all directions, an onyx band wrapped around his forehead, and a worn maroon cape cascading down his back―

It was Ike, the mercenary.

There was a long pause between the two friends, both of their eyes wide and staring blankly at one another. Ike simply lagged there with his mouth open like he just saw something absolutely incredible and unimaginable. Link felt his face immediately rise in temperature and gasped, shocked beyond belief.

Awkwardly, the blond somehow drew back without looking too unusual. He unsteadily turned on his heel and scrambled towards the safety of his room, foolishly hiding just behind the wall; when he really should have slammed his door shut before any more embarrassing chaos struck ― but enough about that! What really mattered to Link, the only thing Link even cared at _all _about at the moment was what the _hell_ Ike was thinking right now!

Though, to be honest, he should've known the mercenary was to appear at his door. It was an everyday _routine_, for Din's sake! Normally, they would meet each morning and have some breakfast together. But now, ever since that blasted bet he offered and pitifully lost, he'd been completely overwhelmed by Marth's evil consequence and hadn't been granted a chance to even grace Ike a thought. Link just now realized how big a mistake it was.

_Oh. My. Goddesses. What have I done?_ He thought miserably in panic. _What does he think of me? Does he think I'm a fool?_

Frantic, the Hylian's heart began to race, dangerously hammering in his chest as if it could just burst through his ribcage. And his blushing face; it kept on heating up and Link could feel the many shades of red tinting his cheeks. All at once, millions of thoughts swirled around in his busy mind that it might as well have caused him to catch a headache!

_Frick' on a stick with a brick! Of course he thinks I'm a fool! I'm not wearing my tights; so it's clear to him that I look absolutely ridiculous!_

The silence that filled in the empty space didn't support much in the predicament. And Link just couldn't help but think of the worst; that maybe Ike wouldn't want to be friends with such a big of an idiot as him, or that Ike would much rather ditch him for someone more sophisticated, like Princess Zelda or Roy ― _anyone_ but _him_, the socially impaired male with his stupidly naked legs!

Ike spoke up.

"Um―" The mercenary choked on the next word, took a deep swallow of which could be heard a world away, and plainly said: "_What?_"

Link hyperventilated. He didn't know how to answer that question. Full of stutters, he tightened his grip on the end of his smooth, olive-green tunic, and nibbled nervously on his bottom lip. The silence between the two friends grew to an unbelievable awkwardness, and Link only wished the tension would disappear. Oh, the pounding of his heart doubled, his blush deepened, and his golden head exploded of thoughts that he just couldn't think straight! If he came up with an excuse, it might just be even lamer than the truth. But if he did tell the truth, Ike would utterly doubt it and probably think of him as some kind of loser! Wouldn't he?

_It doesn't make any sense. Come on, Link, you can think of it in your head!_

"Link?" Ike timidly repeated outside his door frame. "Hey, are you ok―?"

"―Okay, okay, just so it's clear," Link exasperatedly breathed, "This was _not_ my idea. I never wished to do this."

Ike hesitated. "Alright, sure, I understand that much."

In sheer doubtfulness, Link gnawed some more on his bottom lip. It numbed in his tooth's hold.

"So Prince Marth and I were betting on whether Ganon or Bowser would win in a brawl just the day before ― I bet on Ganon and Marth bet on Bowser, ― but then Marth somehow won the bet and now I have to discard everything I wear beneath my tunic for two days!" Were the words that flew out of Link's mouth in a spasmodically sputtered stammer, which sounded like gibberish if anyone even tried to listen. Fortunately for the both of them, the mercenary incredulously caught each word and heartedly _laughed_ at the quandary of his friend.

"W-what is it that you find so hilarious?" Link snapped as he shyly stretched the cotton tunic over his knees, the cloth looking as though it could ruin by one more measly pull. Link wasn't going to test the tunic's durability, and simply tried his best to hide his vulnerable vital regions.

"Nothing," Ike chuckled, his guffaw quieting down a couple of notches. "I was just thinking about how you overreact at every little thing."

"―Huh?"

"But _anyhow_, I think it would be best if you revealed yourself to me, at least." Ike smiled warmly, withstanding his lonely position outside Link's room. "That way, you can rid yourself of your fear of embarrassment and get some food with me ― which, by the way, isn't that bad of an idea."

Link pondered over the numerous possibilities, hearing the loud grumbling of a stomach, funnily out of the blue.

Ike added under his breath: "Excuse me."

Right on cue, too.

Oh, Link failed to stifle his heartwarming chuckle. His friend had a way with words, his ability to manipulate people without the guilt factor hanging in the air. Ike had that _charm_, really, and you couldn't find that in just anyone. You wouldn't think there was anyone else like him! Link's surprisingly gentle and tender voice rang, a refined yet unwinding tune, and chimed amiably as he laughed.

"Fine," He smiled affectionately, with slight disappointment ― of his loss. "You win, Ike. We'll go."

Ike grinned at his small victory.

"But can I just say something?" Link asked. He didn't wait for Ike to answer. "You're my partial guardian now, since I'm in such a crucial condition and I'm _positive_ that our friends will surely take notice."

Partial guardian? Crucial condition? What was that Hylian _talking_ about? He looked absolutely adorable! Ike laughed a kind guffaw in that wonder-blond's ears.

"Whatever you say." Ike said.

That may have been the most unexpected morning he'd ever experienced. His Hylian friend, Link, suited in his usual garb, _but_ without his underwear. All because he lost such an insignificant bet! He wondered how it felt to be in his boots. It sounded enjoyable enough. The faces and reactions of others were to die for!

Although the ordeal was a thumbs-up on his part, everything on the actual victim's end wasn't as bright.

"C'mon out, Link." Ike smiled genuinely, luring his dear friend out from hiding in his humble little shell, encouraging him to approach. "Don't be afraid."

He heard him sigh.

Then the brooding Hylian fell silent and did not make even the slightest move, not a falter, not anything. For a moment, the mercenary almost believed Link had ignored his request and prepared to shut the door in Ike's face, but he didn't. Instead, a golden head of saffron locks popped up like a daisy from behind the doorframe. Slowly and reluctantly did he shyly shuffle into view. With careful eyes, Ike witnessed Link expose himself and appear before him.

Each swordsman took their time lifting their heads to look at one another, as if it was a bad omen to do so, and simultaneously, they batted their lashes in astonishment. Link, because he was frightened Ike was to run away and look down at him ― of which Link was appeased to know Ike remained put. And Ike, because of the spectacle the Hylian created in front of him just by being there.

"Well," The said blond bashfully simpered up at the mercenary, "Here I am."

Ike knew he had already seen Link. Although the sighting had been brief, he caught the look of his friend at the time he attempted to frighten him ― though it was supposed to be Marth, ― and permanently captured the picture in his head. He'd caught the sight of Link's naked collarbone, his neck vulnerable, innocent, and _pure_. He saw his nude arms, their well-kept skin and very tempting flesh. And his legs! _God_, his glorious legs. They were slender, glamorous, and gleamed as if they weren't given enough attention. Ike guessed that if in silhouette, Link would've shaped into a very fit yet feminine body, of which every woman would be envious.

"Please stop staring at me like that." Link suddenly piped up in uncertainty as Ike blankly stared some more.

_I can't help myself. Your body's gorgeous._ Ike wondered what it would feel like beneath his fingers. He could only guess. _Smooth._

The mercenary's own hand, gliding across the Hylian's delicious thigh from the knee to his slim waist, where he would crush their bodies together and melt into one. God, he would love to touch that body. _Scrumptious._

No one could blame Ike for thinking like that. Really, no one could deny the fact. Link's legs were just so — _sexy_.

"_Definitely sexy._"

"What was that?" Link inquired suspiciously, peering curiously into Ike's mesmerized irises and trying to capture eye contact. "You're mumbling things."

_Had I said that aloud?_

"Oh, um, well, I said _let's go_." Blinked Ike, as if awakening from a dream, "My stomach isn't going to feed itself."

Link nodded in agreement and smiled as Ike finally wheeled his head around, away from him. Ike saw that cute smile. He adored that cute smile. _Such a cute smile._

"To breakfast, then." Link said.

"_To breakfast!_"

Their stroll to the dining hall wasn't entirely awkward. They shared their regular jokes and laughs, their ideas and suggestions without too much thinking over Link's supposedly "crucial condition". The two didn't seem to discern any discomfort of the other's company.

Once the two arrived at the giant double doors that lead to the roomy cafeteria, a loud, obnoxious chatter heard from beyond them, they halted and stopped and paused. Ike swiveled his head around to look at Link in question ― _should we go in?_

The Hylian nodded, with his long strands of golden hair curling around his courageous and handsome face. His locks flew in different directions, confident and brave, similar to his lightning cerulean eyes that could pierce through one's heart.

"Open the doors."

Ike complied and opened the doors without a second thought. The blinding light peeked through the small crack at first, rays of illumination pointing here and there, but then the large doors opened wider and wider, then completely, so the light could escape into the halls and shadow their figures.

What was revealed inside was something absolutely unbelievable.

"LINK!"

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_Look Forward to the Next Chapter!_

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**A/N:** I'm so sorry for taking so long on the second chapter, everyone! I abandon my fanfiction account over random periods of time for some strange reason, ― I suppose it's because I'm almost _never_ in the mood to write, and it's called the almighty "Writer's Block" and every writer _dreads_ it, ― so now there's a continuation for "The Bet He Lost" all of a sudden, and no one's willing to read it because they aren't interested in it anymore! (_Laugh_) Anyway, from what I remember, I tried to write the whole first day in one chapter, but of course, I wrote this originally years ago, so my plotting wasn't very well-planned. I didn't think about how painfully _long_ the actual process is. All fanfic-writers have to plot, draft, edit, revise, proofread, and then try to find the time to post it! It gets so frustrating sometimes, if not _all_ the time.

OKAY ― I love you, my sweet, sweet readers! Please leave me a review. I really do want to know what you think! I mean, it's not that I'm desperate for reviews; I just like to hear from you guys, and the criticism on my writing really helps!

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! By some miracle, I'll continue this soon.

**8/14/12 A/N:** Wow, I _still_ used to suck at writing. But oh well, I guess. Anyhow, don't worry, no dramatic changes were made — I probably would've been too lazy to change that much, anyhow, — but the pesky grammar was finally fixed. Haha, anyway, leave reviews, please and thank you!


	3. Day 1 Noon — Il est embarrassé

"The Bet He Lost"

By animefan752

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**Caution:** There's nothing too dreadful to warn you about, my beloved readers, but there's certainly some _yaoi_, otherwise known as the lovable intimacy or relationship between two males, in this chapter as well as indefinite humiliation. Besides that, there's that foul language you guys always have to look forward to! Haha, so exciting!

**Disclaimer:** Super Smash Bros doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo and company, respectively.

**Side Note:** Let's just assume Link chose _not_ to wear his _chainmail_. Ah, this has been bothering me for the longest; I was wondering the most irrelevant and trivial aspects of this! I was shamelessly curious: would the chainmail inflict pain around that area? Would it be painfully heavy, with its structure composed of metal? Would it be considered a bothersome hindrance? And so forth. Therefore I just decided — _forget the chainmail_. If he was already stated wearing it in the previous chapters, _please ignore them_. I haven't read the first chapters in forever. I hardly remember them.

**Another Side Note:** I decided to steer Zelda's personality in another direction, so, don't get too geared up about her attitude. I wanted to provide a variety in character. Personally, I envision her as a graceful and respectful woman. Here, she's more, well, pretentious and judgmental. You have been forewarned!

**A/N:** Um, I should probably apologize for this hideous delay. I mean, when was the last time I updated this story? Days, weeks, months, maybe even a _year_ ago? That's just preposterous! Well, I'm trying to compensate for my lack of commitment by continuing this, so hopefully, you all have the patience and courtesy to excuse my pathetic form of payment. Oh, and should I warn you, my beloved readers, of how incredibly _long_ this is? I know, I know, it's excruciatingly _painful_ to read, but it's particularly longer than the precious chapters to repay for my long absence.

Well, I hope you enjoy this fresh new chapter, my beloved readers! Indulge in the story's ongoing plot as I have pampered this chapter with formal diction, detailed portrayals, and floods of emotion. This chapter's reading level is quite a leap from the previous two; regardless, I sincerely hope you intend to keep on reading as I pursue this story's conclusion!

As Ike would say it, _prepare yourselves_! And have fun! Happy reading!

* * *

"LINK!" Approaching them was a burly figure in ecstatically blue tights. It was Captain Falcon, that one rather peculiar and enthusiastic man in the crimson helmet. Although instead of responding to that fervent call, the petrified Hylian froze absolutely stiff at the sight before him. Because within those open doors, behind that blue man, and in that one cafeteria, they really were―! "Link, Ike! You guys are just in time ― _whoa_!"

_Legs!_

"Link, — what in the world — what are you _wearing_?" Incredulous at this pleasant surprise, Captain Falcon gawked. "Or, should I say, what _aren__'__t_ you wearing?"

Why, those defenseless limbs were absolutely _gorgeous_, those slender legs just teased him beyond meager temptation! When was the last time Captain Falcon sighted such model thighs? Well, not one woman within the entire vicinity bothered revealing actual skin; the refined Princesses were gracefully concealed beneath their elegant gowns, and that tomboyish Samus, well that was pretty much self-explanatory, what with her fearsome suit and all. And now, out of perhaps nowhere, this appealing blond Hylian had the pluck to make such an unexpected appearance! Oh, did that mean the Smash Mansion residents were finally going to be peppered with some _spice_? With that adorable teaser, _something_ was bound to happen!

"Hey!" Sensing the infinite number of filthy thoughts that must now run wildly in Captain Falcon's mind, Ike quickly interfered. "What is it, Captain Falcon? What's going on?"

Mindlessly, Captain Falcon whistled.

"_Hey_!" Ike fumed.

"Oh, yeah, right." He hesitated, those intrigued eyes carefully assessing the delicious flesh exposed before him. They shuffled, smooth skin brushing against skin, as one hapless foot grew numb from the pressure of the weight and eventually persuaded Link into switching. "Tell me, what was I talking about again?"

_You don't think I know what you're thinking right now, you idiot?_ Ike shouted angrily in his head. How rude, how absolutely _bothersome_ the perverted Captain was being! Clearly and almost stupidly, he scrutinized Link's legs with a burning desire glinting in his own eyes. That much was blatant, and yet, not only that, but the Captain regarded those gorgeous limbs ignorantly! Now, Ike couldn't help but feel beyond irritated; that foolish idiot couldn't even restrain himself, let alone make it deliberate. He just kept on staring ― so, so very obviously. Didn't he think Link could see that? Wouldn't the thought even cross his mind that Link would feel unbelievably offended and embarrassed?

_Just stop looking!_

"Human Sculpture." Link murmured pensively out of the blue, as if something captivated him, yet at the same time completely terrified him. Immediately, both Ike and Captain Falcon returned from whatever worlds they were in to discern the bewildered Hylian, whose anxious expression beheld emotions of both excitement and horror.

"Yeah, you're right! That's what I was just about to say!" With a cheerful salute of his gloved hand, the Captain happily boasted. Spiteful, Ike hardly refrained himself from being sarcastic and remarking bitterly on the Captain's lame gestures. "You know, the guys and I were deep in a game of Human Sculpture earlier. But when Master Hand came along, of course we thought we were doomed! Boy, were we in for a surprise!"

Utterly at a loss for words, Link gaped on in silence. Either he wasn't listening or was simply ignoring them ― Ike honestly had no clue. But certainly something struck a nerve, disorienting Link completely to the point of numbness.

"Master Hand suggested holding a tournament for it after lunch!" Captain Falcon burst into a boisterous cheer of joy. "Do you read my lips? He's actually interested in the game!"

"Uh-huh." Mindless and perhaps even beyond dumbstruck, Link muttered hollowly in reply. Then, of course, the robust mercenary glanced at him curiously, that concerned and questioning expression adorning his handsome face. _Link_ —honestly what was the matter? What was the primary cause of the Hylian's abrupt silence? Why was he so expressly speechless now all of a sudden?

"Hey, the guys and I are merely practicing now, but do you and Ikey-poo here want to join us later?" The broad Captain urged, hopelessly engrossed in devouring the mere sight of Link, — or well, rather, those stunning legs, that tempting flesh, that sweet, _sweet_ skin untainted by others. "You should know that you're definitely welcome to partake in our practice games!"

"_Ikey-poo?_ That's got to be some kind of joke."

Although the Hylian's impatient company craved his undivided attention, the only thought Link had in mind was — _why_? Why _today_, of all days? Honestly, why did everyone suddenly decide to play Human Sculpture on this one ill-fated day that he obviously couldn't? After all, the chances of losing his prideful dignity and being completely embarrassed were impossibly high and certainly escalating further. It made the forlorn Hylian hopelessly miserable just by the thought of how risky it would be! In fact, the meager idea alone sent chills down his spine and sent his anxious heart leaping into the next century. To put it in simpler terms, he was just too exposed!

Oh, it must have been that damned Prince's doing!

Discretely crafty, Marth knew beforehand that _Human Sculpture_ was a humorous game Link absolutely loved to participate in, since it was always ridiculously funny. After all, when playing the hilarious game, one united party would be divided into separate teams. Then, each cooperative team would be assigned to one object. And whatever that object was, that group must be resourceful and represent it in any way possible ― as long as the members of the group themselves were the only materials utilized as pieces of the sculpture! Oh, the thrill and wonder on how to accomplish such a feat was exclusively amusing. And _now_, while Link was too vulnerable and open, that impish Marth thought he would eagerly surrender to his malevolent antics? Was this all a part of the Prince's clever ploy to torture him? Did he think Link would willingly lose simply because his pride wouldn't allow it?

_Well, we'll see about that!_

"Alright, Captain Falcon! Count me in!" Determined to butt heads with the cunning Prince, Link joyfully smiled as he raised an ardent fist, that stubborn resolve gleaming within his cerulean eyes. Oh, the persistent doggedness was definitely there, in those divine pools of aquamarine that glistened with anticipation. "Gather whoever else wants to play, because I definitely won't lose!"

Disbelieving, Ike shot him an expression of the uttermost shock.

"That's the spirit, Link!" Oh, how absolutely preposterous! Now, Captain Falcon was peevishly excited beyond belief, smirking perhaps even idiotically with a wicked grin that stretched from ear to ear. For Ike, the antsy Captain's welcome was hardly flattering. That naughty smirk was misbehaved and ill-mannered, not to mention the bad intentions engraved in its faux friendliness! Ah, his immoral intents were grossly natured! "Okay, allow me to prepare everyone then!"

With that, he sprinted off zealously, with shameless purpose driving him.

"Well? Are you joining us, Ikey-poo?" Link didn't hesitate, a warm smile on his youthful face, courteously swiveling his golden head around towards the anxious mercenary. That gentle smile immediately threw Ike's yearning heart into a chaotic uproar, — oh, those soft petals, those innocently pink lips, were so fair and unspoiled; had they ever kissed? They looked so tempting, alluring, _beguiling_ — and yet, the gnawing concern Ike felt towards the Hylian's abrupt boldness defeated his manly urges. That affectionate unease of Ike's utterly failed to be concealed. "Hey, is something the matter, Ike? What's bothering you?"

"Ah, no, it's nothing at all." Ike casually waved it off.

It was simply impossible! How could the concerned mercenary ever explain his oh-so-restless feelings of uncertainty to the Hylian? They were both perfectly aware of Link's peculiar circumstances and bare skin and all, which was precisely why Ike wondered — wouldn't a single round of Human Sculpture with this appealing distraction, this charming Link, bring the simple game to a whole new level of awkwardness? How could they possibly form an object as a cooperative whole when the blond Hylian suddenly had so much more to hide? There would be misunderstandings, unsettled disputes, and riotous embarrassment between the team members — _for certain!_

"Oh, I understand! You're obviously still hungry! How could I forget?" Link recalled with tender blitheness, chuckling pleasantly and lighthearted in his gestures. "Come on, then, we'll fetch ourselves some breakfast first."

_What was that?_

Before Ike was even granted a chance to regain his dazed composure, the cordial Hylian suddenly had a delightful grasp on his hand! Oh, Ike couldn't comprehend such an absurdly pleasing idea, the wonderful thought of his rough and stout hand joined with Link's own ― it was simply too overwhelming! Still, no matter how much Ike stubbornly denied it, his coveting heart would always remain true to his amorous feelings. Furiously and aggressively, it thumped, thudded, and thundered away in his restrained chest — that _intense ferocity_ was the disoriented mercenary's heart. Ah, he might as well enjoy it while it lasted, right? Oh, but wait, didn't that blissful Hylian just say something? "Wait, what?"

"_Breakfast_, Ike! Come on then, quickly!" With that radiantly endearing smile gracing his cherubic face, Link laughed sweetly as he tugged, hauled, and towed merrily on the broad mercenary's hand. Why, that miraculous moment was perhaps almost wistfully surreal and dreamy — was this truly happening? He could feel the generous warmth and lavish benevolence through their intertwined hands, their adorable little fingers delightfully interlaced. "You're simply dragging your feet, you deadweight!"

_This is real. Oh, my Great Goddess Ashera, this is really happening._ Well, after all, it truthfully was bittersweet reality, which certainly included his rapidly sprinting heart that pined, whined, and craved almost painfully. Oh, the bewildered mercenary only feebly hoped and prayed and wished that Link wasn't capable of possibly eavesdropping, or even remotely overhearing the dramatic pace of his leaping heart. _The legs, the naked skin, that delicious flesh — this is really him. These are our hands — our hands are really touching._

"Oh, am I just dragging my feet?" Mesmerized not only by the severe racing of his excited heart, but by the amused curl of those lusciously guiltless lips, Ike blinked. And, snickering and giggling and chortling amiably, his charming companion reassured him of the truth, that his feet were presently burdening their journey to the unrestricted kitchen. With that, a bluntly candid expression soon then accommodated the captivated mercenary's handsome face. _Honestly_, it took more than just meager _effort_ to pull that entranced Ike into reality, when he finally lifted his heavy feet. "I'm, uh, — sorry about that."

"Just forget it, Ike. Let's go, let's go!"

As the two friends bashfully attracted every pair of eyes from every excruciating corner of the cafeteria, they strode onward sheepishly. Oh, it was absolutely agonizing! Each and every _living creature_ they passed simply dismissed their current conversation, and instead, shamelessly permitted their snooping, probing, and painfully _nosy_ eyes to observe their polite passage to the communal kitchen! Even brazenly, they all judged them without the bizarre need to verbally declare it aloud, — and they continued that obnoxious discourtesy with as much _attention_ as ever potentially _possible_. It was as if they were involuntarily strolling amidst a richly dignified room of pompous aristocrats who regarded them with uttermost distaste; it was quite the unpleasant feeling. And yet, _regardless_ of their shattered confidence and security, the initiative was still within humbly virtuous hands. That adamant blond, Link, courageously steered them into Smash Mansion's extravagant kitchen, where excellently crafted marble countertops, polished wood cupboards, and stainless steel appliances met their accustomed eyes.

Not only that, though, but also a brunette woman with a dense air of refined grace, whose gloriously blue eyes briefly crossed with Link's own.

Oh, great Goddesses, it was the sophisticated Princess Zelda.

As far as anyone in the entire vicinity was concerned, the elegant Princess's critical opinion was probably the most judgmental out of every resident in the building. She was definitely the most grave and perilous evaluator; her gracious and wise words hideously stung as if her truest intention was to brutally pierce through one's dignity and heartlessly penetrate their pride. In fact, word around the building was that the distinguished Princess Zelda wouldn't hesitate to spread a wildfire of dangerous gossips that could easily ruin one's triumphant reputation in a single day, despite the fact that her actual intention was probably as simple as to share their successful victory in some tournament. Of course, she truly was sympathetic and benevolent, — she was just a little more practical than everyone else and perhaps a hazardous amount more oblivious than she would think.

Well, luckily or unluckily, the refined Princess Zelda chose not to immediately respond to Link's astonishing new "look" — if preferably defined in that way, — instead, she simply returned to the preparations she was previously occupied with, a slightly scattered expression gracing her beauteous face. In an attempt to further distract herself, her slender fingers properly decorated her platter of luxury with sumptuous foods, finely garnished with bountiful fruits and vegetables that surrounded the simple dish.

Similarly, Link didn't insist on initiating some genial conversation, awkwardly flocking to Ike's trustful side. Lumbering and uncoordinated, the anxious Hylian inquired his companion for a particular request of breakfast, that desperate expression accommodating his cherubic face — someone urgently needed to break this formidable ice, this daunting atmosphere between them!

"Um, well, uh, that's alright, I don't really want anything in particular." Hopelessly misunderstanding the gravity of the situation, Ike stammered and stumbled over his own piteous dialogue. And perhaps even nonchalant about the chiding Princess Zelda, the awkward mercenary just shrugged at him with that ridiculously charming smile. "Anything works."

Soon, that frantic expression of Link demanded for something more — a conversation starter, maybe? _Anything_ to break this awkward tension that hung still in the air! Oh, that atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife!

"Uh, well, oh, I guess if there's bacon and eggs, I'd like that." As he scratched the back of his indigo head, the uncomfortable mercenary spoke as if he was casually acting or lying, although Ike made a horrendous actor! That tone of voice sounded unreasonably fake and odd and suspicious, oh, _everything_ about him just further added onto the incredible level of awkwardness in that thick room!

Oh, whatever, Link surrendered to the tension, shooting Ike this peculiar look of defeat that screamed: _Goddesses, Ike, maybe you shouldn't say anything after all!_

In response, Ike glimpsed back with an equally dramatic and rather sarcastically apologetic expression: _Well, excuse me for being a terrible liar! I can't help it that I can't act to save my life! I'm an honest man._

With that, the heavy silence of questionable stillness thickened, stiffened, and condensed to the point in which Link could even definitely admit that one could choke in such a dense air. Of course, obviously this compact atmosphere was exceptionally tense. In fact, this bizarre tension could easily clot enough to be considered treacherous, unsafe, and — _hilarity_! Oh, how could anyone take this preposterous air _seriously_? Certainly the two suddenly coy friends couldn't, timidly bursting into pleasant grins at one another for the dramatic faces they flashed at one another. And, upon realizing how absolutely _silly_ they were being right now, Link and Ike chuckled quietly to themselves as they playfully nudged and elbowed and pulled at each other's ticklish sides.

Until, of course, the refined presence of the almighty Princess Zelda threatened to penetrate through their cheerful jests, what with her piercing side glances. Almost immediately, the two spirited friends were abruptly startled by her menacing company, alarmed by her painfully judgmental eyes.

"O-oh, we still need to make breakfast!" Exceedingly discomforted by the silent Princess's experienced gazes, Link bashfully abandoned his place beside the robust mercenary and laughed emptily at him. That cautionary smile was a warning; the pretentious Princess would narrow her sharp eyes soon, — a sign of her next fatal evaluation. "Well, I-I'll check the refrigerator for any bacon and eggs. Ike, you can grab us some plates."

"Alright, even I can do that."

Deliberately evading those sharp eyes, Link and Ike prepared their breakfasts quietly as they arranged the necessary materials. Although the genuine scent of fresh breakfast, the boisterous sizzling of the pan and stove, and the impatience for simple food starved them, their mute dialogue and the obnoxious teetering of emotions bubbled just below the surface of their pensive stillness, which created an atmosphere we could only imagine. Of course, there was no escaping the intensity of the suspense building in the room, despite their helpless efforts to ease into casual conversation amongst one another; those miniscule quips that poked enjoyable fun at trivial matters. Yes, that dreadful strain of pressured tension towered further and further, raising shrill hairs and goosebumps upon the restless surfaces of their bodies, tightening anxious muscles, when there was suddenly an abrupt clattering of silverware and curiously swiveling heads and a surprisingly noisy voice booming with power —

"Okay, would someone _care_ to explain to me what in _Farore's_ _name_ is going on? Why aren't you properly attired, Link? Tell me, where are your undergarments? And I say give me a valid clarification; I simply refuse to hear any codswallop poppycock from you."

The relentless Princess had finally spoken, albeit rather upsettingly and without even the slightest alarm, in which shattered the well-constructed barriers of awkward discomfort that occupied the vacancy within the confines of the room. Appalled and quite speechless, both Ike and Link — but particularly the intimidated latter, who was now beneath the menacing spotlight, startled and disoriented, — were seriously taken aback by such demanding barks from such a delicate-seeming woman.

"Now be a proper knight of Hyrule and look me directly in the eye. I forewarn you to speak neither nonsense nor absurdities, Link." Unflinching, gallant, and straightforward with her precise orders, it was obvious enough how expectant the chivalrous Princess was of a reasonable answer, especially with those unnerving orbs of paralyzing blue that gazed steadfastly at him. "Where are your trousers, your usual garb and apparel?"

_They're in my bureau, Princess, preserved and safe and — oh, I honestly just want to wear them, you know! I'm desperate, in fact!_ Well, that burdensome pressure certainly took its toll on the bewildered Hylian; he was hopelessly cornered, and he knew there was not even the slightest possibility in preventing the foreboding heresy of questions from assailing him. Oh, _yes_, he was definitely aware of those prying eyes awaiting his return in the cafeteria. Upon his bold appearance, they would immediately raid him with repulsively curious eyes, which were large and ominous to seem to radiate disbelief and suspicion. It was hardly pleasant, or even faintly flattering of them.

As Link brooded miserably to himself for meager moments, those severe daggers of sapphire weren't any less intense, lying upon his unnerved person rather softly, delicately, and quite _heavily_. Primarily the elegant Princess Zelda's level of high expectation was to blame for Link's restless unease. Keen in her anticipating eyes were her judgments that absolutely must be thoroughly satisfied, and thus heaved and lugged at his troubled heart's measly strings, which compelled that pounding organ into sprinting at unbelievable speeds. Distressed, the blond Hylian could feel a faint lump beginning to settle in his throat, as well as the tiresome beads of perspiration dotting the gentle features of his body.

"Oh, great Goddesses, the cat's out of the bag, now, huh." Attempting a much more casual approach, Link spoke tenderly, with precautious care laced into his apprehensive words. Soon enough, that cherubic face flushed with the unwavering attention, hinting at the constant embarrassment of that situation as a rosy pink color was powdered along his cheeks. And yet, beside him, Link felt the hushed mercenary provide a supportive presence in his favor, despite his discreet silence. At least that single thought lifted some of the pressure off, he figured, smiling sheepishly. "Oh, how do I explain myself, um, Princess, it's just that, well, — Prince Marth and I were foolish enough to bet, I suppose, t-that's what it was, I guess."

"What did you say, — this is all because of a _bet_? Link, haven't I told you to avoid such frivolous follies before?" At this point, the completely stern expression gracing the refined Princess Zelda's beauteous face softened in the slimmest way possible, as she relaxed slightly in her disappointment and concern. Although, certainly her stiff eloquence easily overwhelmed her composure, which soon dismissed her gentleness. In an instant, Zelda was cold, rigid, and firmly proper once again, chastising her irrational knight. "What in the world were you thinking?"

Now, Ike was fairly polite and courteous, silently feeling guiltier and guiltier for no particular reason at all; it was that bewildered and uneasy expression adorning Link's face. With one mere glimpse, it was already much too remorseful. Those pursed lips of the blond Hylian's pressed together thoughtfully as he contemplated over his next words, processing carefully, because he couldn't afford to make any mistakes in Zelda's critical presence. "I-it was just a playful joke at first, your Highness, but, things escalated quickly once I realized how humiliating this was. It was my mistake."

"Oh, of course you'd only realize that _now_. Link, you're much too reckless sometimes. By now you should already be completely aware of the consequences of your actions. Because you weren't, you are obviously still childish, naïve, and hardly matured. Now look at what you have to blame, it's yourself." She scoffed, harshly examining Link's bowed head with those sharp blue eyes. "I don't expect you to make excuses; doing that would only further damage your impression. You wouldn't want that, now, would you, Link?"

Another concerned glance at the dismayed Hylian — his golden brows furrowed anxiously, those lengthy strands of blond hair purposefully gliding across his flustered expression to hide his humiliated status, as those disquiet pools of aquamarine stormed and raged with unsettling emotions. Obviously he didn't dare retort at the refined Princess's words; that was suicide. She would certainly consider that as defying her gracious eminence, and things would easily turn sour, especially with her hefty influence on the other mingling residents. It was definitely smart of Link not to answer, but, really, since he wasn't going to, this led precisely to the gallant mercenary's bravery. Chivalrous, Ike gathered his wits and firmly decided that _he_ would be the one to speak instead.

"Don't be remorseless, Princess, it wasn't entirely his fault." Ike declared strongly, as if some of the faulty blame was his utmost responsibility. Of course neither of the baffled Hylians believed it, but the amused Princess Zelda was persuaded by the mercenary's courageous air into succumbing. She was pleased by Ike's display of noble and valiant defense; it was genuine proof of his sincerity, of his dislike for their petty quarreling. Well, surely the elegant Princess Zelda loathed trifling arguments as well, but, _really_, what was the point of such preposterous bets? Were they merely for entertainment purposes? She saw absolutely no reason to make bets; the thought alone was simply pointless!

And yet, with a merciful sigh, Zelda surrendered to Ike's handsome charm, and kindly forgave Link's foolish recklessness. Indeed, they were absolutely relieved, to say the least — the severe Princess of fatal evaluations _pardoned_ them! That was particularly remarkable!

"Oh, don't look so pleasant." She smiled perhaps almost wickedly, that wise glint in her piercing eyes, in which startled the two companions. "I'm absolutely certain there are other residents who'll respond far less desirably than I have; just remember to be wary and careful, alright? Not everyone will be as forgiving as I have been, Link. You've probably gathered enough attention as it is, and that isn't necessarily always something to cherish. Heed these words carefully — not everyone has good intentions."

_What?_

"Well then, alright, I will take my leave now." Gracefully, the regal Princess Zelda gathered her things and lifted her grand platter with the uttermost poise. She was properly dignified as she prepared for her formal departure, striding elegantly across the kitchen with that polished dress billowing and fluttering modishly behind her. But, just before exiting, she briefly remembered to mention something of significant importance. "Oh, and I've heard about the Human Sculpture contest occurring after lunch. I don't suggest you participate in it. You'll be smart not to."

And with that, the stately Princess Zelda drifted into the boisterous congestion of the cafeteria. The double doors continuously swung with her grandiose parting. Both Link and Ike were left to contemplate her studious words.

_What does she mean by that?_

As the two friendly companions felt the pensive atmosphere settle, Link briskly occupied himself by cleaning after them, carefully placing their used pans in the sink. Similarly, the cordial mercenary chose not to break this recreated ice, truly fearing that their verbal communication would rudely disrupt Zelda's impact. There was something especially intriguing about her last words that didn't sting horribly as they usually would, which certainly piqued their interests. They were simply curious, pondering over the countless possibilities.

Out of perhaps nowhere, there came an abrupt fluttering of feathered wings and the energetic shouting of two very _noisy_ teens — obviously it was Pit and Roy, who were most definitely producing a ridiculous commotion among themselves. It immediately crushed the reconstructed silence of the tense kitchen, and in an instant, Link was thrown into a frenzied panic. Oh, if those obnoxious friends ever discovered his humiliating appearance, the troubled Hylian would surely never hear the end of it! Alarmed by their loud presences, Ike shot him a questioning glimpse. Those deep blue eyes were glistening with kindness and concern, which was truly calming and reassuring of him, but it wasn't enough to retrieve Link from his frantic dread.

Well, _oh_, — that swiftly, Zelda's prudent words were forgotten, lost in their memories, — because Link knew he just couldn't lose to that dastardly Prince Marth! He simply couldn't hide! He wouldn't eagerly accept inferiority by scurrying away from everyone! And so, fearless, — or rather, pigheaded and _stubborn_, — Link ignorantly buried every pestering thought of wisdom, exuberantly charged outside of those fine double doors, abandoned an incredulous Ike, and immediately permitted those large and curious eyes to witness his current dilemma.

"What the — look! Hey, see, it's Link! Whoa!" Exclaiming wildly as they came to an abrupt halt, Pit and Roy hastily scrutinized the disheveled Hylian ahead of them with those gigantic eyes. Stunned and excruciatingly loud, they instantly bore holes through Link's nervous figure. That smooth and innocent flesh was exposed to their widening eyes, how absolutely peculiar! "You're — you look different!"

"I know, right?" The other bellowed vivaciously in response, which quickly steeped their outbursts into an obnoxious chatter. They were yammering away in an instant, their expressive faces constantly shifting with their every excited reaction. "He's not wearing that stuff under his tunic!"

"Oh, yeah, you aren't wearing your undergarments!" In boisterous unison, the two exceedingly spirited companions curved their heads around towards the flustered Hylian, those enormous eyes of theirs glimmering with childish mischief and curiosity. Simultaneously, they stated noisily at once: "That's weird."

"I don't get it, though, why would you do that? Doesn't that make you feel strange?"

"Are you trying to prove something, Link?"

"You're just going commando, aren't you?"

"Wait, I thought you'd at least have underwear! Aren't you wearing any?"

"Then, aren't you just naked?"

"Well, I'd say everyone's naked under their clothes, guys." Uncomfortable, Link countered sheepishly, attempting to return their prying glances and gaze back with just as much fervent intensity, but it was simply too embarrassing. Their blunt questions and shameless meddling were too brash for his own renowned courage; how could the baffled Hylian be fearless and audacious when the two troublemakers were even more brazen and unabashed, staring impudently at him?

"No, your legs and arms and neck and junk — they're especially naked! Doesn't that bother you?" They persisted endlessly as they squabbled and prattled on, eagerly cocking an eyebrow. Oh, the bewildered Hylian couldn't even distinctly tell them apart with their badgering inquiries and demands, they were so unbelievably engrossed in their probing interrogation.

Well, really, that couldn't be helped. Their bouncing nosiness wasn't honestly their faults. With just one glance, _anyone_ would attack the wistful Hylian with countless questions. After all, such relentless bombards of queries were to be expected with his revealing appearance. And Link was definitely aware of this. After all, he wasn't the type to do this in the first place, _this_, these preposterous dares that only encouraged disgrace and further humiliation.

But, to briefly answer their question, whether or not he was perturbed by his lack of attire — of course! _Absolutely! _The timid Hylian was exclusively bothered by it in every possible way! Who wouldn't be? Right now, with their attention drawn completely to his visible skin, it felt as though the whole entire _world_ was curiously inquiring about Link's current condition, prattling and gossiping uselessly to one another. And these tensions and judgmental glimpses only added to the weighty pressure of anticipation and fear upon his burdened shoulders. Why was he dressed like that? Where were his undergarments? What persuaded him into doing this? Why were they such obvious questions, about typical matters, this and that?

Blushing profusely out of the purest mortification, Link anxiously pursed his lips as he brushed a number of golden tresses aside from his cherubic face.

"Hey, Link! We're not getting any younger, here!"

"Shhh, _stupid_! You're offending him!" The other hissed busily, failing miserably to whisper. Immediately after that, both Pit and Roy were feverishly bickering, their loud voices were unreasonably higher than usual as they stubbornly and perhaps playfully elbowed at one another. "You go commando sometimes, too! You shouldn't bother him about it!"

"I suppose that _is _true."

"Then just drop the subject; can't you tell how uncomfortable he is?"

Ah, too bad the astounded Hylian didn't catch which sincere troublemaker this was, otherwise Link certainly wouldn't have hesitated to embrace him and congratulate him for his blooming maturity!

"Oh, I guess you're right." The other said somewhat repentantly as he eagerly lifted his head and suddenly grinned rather impishly. As lively and energetic as ever, he offered his condolences through that cheeky smile and this halfhearted apology: "Sorry, Link!"

At that lame excuse, Link simpered fondly as if it was absolutely nothing dramatic at all and didn't stir some doubtful uncertainty and hesitation into his self-conscious mind. Regardless, the two noisy rabble-rousers were oblivious to the blond Hylian's insecurity and blundered, careened, and goofed away in the midst of their obnoxious blathering. Oh, their raucous clamor could be heard miles away, what with those heavy leather boots pounding upon the floor, those feathery wings flapping loudly above them, and of course, in addition, their animated racket of voices. Brooding, Link sighed quietly to himself.

Then those fine double doors swung pliably once again, Ike striding out of the kitchen with their freshly prepared breakfasts in each caring hand. Although, at that precise moment he perceived the troubled expression gracing Link's charming face; his vicious heart's passionate pounding then emerged from the depths of his broad chest. Oh, his delicate organ repeatedly punching, beating, and threatening to burst through his ribcage, the robust mercenary quickly blinked those worried blue eyes and approached Link with utmost concern. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Huh — oh! Well, yeah." Perhaps even purposefully avoiding eye contact, Link humbly curled those two gentle lips into a smile in response to Ike's fretful prodding. And yet, those gorgeous eyes of cerulean blue appeared to be particularly heavy, not from natural fatigue, but instead, this apprehensive surrender of some sort. Simply put, something was definitely up, and Link was feasibly too proud or anxious to admit it. Instead, that undecided Hylian chose to wear this nauseating smile and accumulate the unease all on his own — but _as if_ that would fool _him_, Ike. With obvious dismay swallowing his own words, Link's pleasing smile grew duller as he raised his golden head up at the mercenary. "Um, yeah, I'm okay."

Again, the distressed Hylian denied it. And again, he smiled faintly, burying this "trivial" matter behind him. Ike, whose heart propelled itself forward and hurtled violently at his restricting chest, struggled to hide his own frustrated concern. "Did those two bother you?"

"No, _really_, Ike, it's perfectly okay. Even if they did, it was nothing particularly extraordinary." Link pronounced his words both tenderly and softly, persisting tirelessly to end this discussion. Oh, those brilliant pools of aquamarine glimmering beneath those long eyelashes even _pleaded_ with Ike, requesting courteously to pursue a peacefully quiet morning. "It was just Pit and Roy being typical Pit and Roy; nothing more."

There was a fleeting silence, in which Ike's dubious expression alone displayed his unconvinced reaction. Although soon enough that brief moment of skepticism perished and he immediately softened, accepting Link's feeble enlightenment. "Oh, okay."

Fortunately for Link, the friendly mercenary was easily persuaded into dismissing his initial suspicions, choosing not to further escalate their casual banter. Well, it could've boiled into a heated quarrel simply because Ike was terribly worried about the blond Hylian and yearned for answers. But he decided against it, primarily for another reason, besides avoiding the angered disputes with a close friend; his desire was to preserve this cherished familiarity between them. Affectionately, the kind mercenary relished in their admired bond, how close they were. But a petty argument about the present situation could sever their ties, considering how Link might feel, since the chagrined Hylian was now particularly sensitive. If they debated, — even if Ike _was_ willing to discover the inevitable answers out of concern for Link, — not only would it be too painful, but it could lead to a gloomy separation. After all, their current relationship was delicate enough as it was, especially now with Link's outwardly crucial condition. And Ike didn't want to risk it. Wholly, the Hylian trusted Ike not to pester him about it too much, to be more understanding, and to generously support him through thick and thin, right?

Ike figured he shouldn't badger him simply over whether or not something bothered him, no matter how concerned he might be.

Eventually, the two companions finally agreed upon settling at a table, and they specifically selected the emptiest, quietest, and loneliest one that was distanced the farthest away from the cluster of garrulous civilization. They would politely keep to themselves there as they ate their breakfasts quietly, without possibly encountering the chaos and mayhem of everyone's brutal reactions. And, once they survived and rather hastily disregarded the obnoxious gazes of the other residents, they arrived at their preferred table and seated themselves. The cluttering of their plates and the noisy shifting of their clothes were the only noises they heard, aside from the indistinct chatter of everyone else, of course. It wasn't the slightest bit comforting, when they silently and gingerly lifted their forks.

Oh, how absolutely unsettling! Despite how comfortable they might have been physically, upon warming their own individual seats and cordially savoring the taste of their morning nutrition, they were utterly _un_comfortable in every other sense — mentally, emotionally, and perhaps even spiritually, who knew! It was just that the blond Hylian felt exceptionally victimized, after realizing what kind of reactions people conceived at the sight of him, their silent judgments and negative decrees. Now that was certainly an undesirable air. In addition to that, Ike, who sensed the upsetting tension of Link's flustered emotions, felt exceedingly worried to the point in which he was floundering within his own emotions of concern and discomposure.

Luckily for these two discreet friends, one gallant soul shook out of his own shroud of emotional turmoil and discomfort. It was the compassionate mercenary, Ike. Collecting his heedful thoughts, he chewed on his food nonchalantly, as he usually would. Except, today was the only day he'd ever ferociously steered the curious stares of others away. With morsels of food in his mouth, Ike shot those viciously scornful eyes of his at whoever dared to even slightly focus their gaze in their direction. This, of course, frightened them and certainly ensured their lonesome privacy.

Although, it was certainly true that a pretentious Prince approached them. Those deliberate footsteps of his generated a pompous and haughty sound all on their own, but his entire presence summed up to an even greater smugness, it was almost repugnant. Regardless, as that swelling mass of snobbishly arrogant air neared them, Ike's aggressive demeanor relaxed as Link quietly swallowed his milk. Courteously, the two friends discretely minded their own business, but his _conceited_ Majesty seemed to completely ignore their mannerly seclusion and smirked teasingly at the victimized Hylian, which only fueled Link's anger and prompted him into reflecting such a fierce gaze.

"Well if it isn't the loser of the bet and his love-sick puppy."

—_Wait, what?_

With a curious glimpse at Ike, — who, for whatever reason, was apparently considered to be a _love-sick puppy_, — Link witnessed the sheepish mercenary's gallant bravery dwindle. Bashful and humbled, Ike blinked repeatedly out of flabbergasted shock and perhaps even embarrassment, when those cheeks of his flushed immensely into brilliant shades of scarlet red. His round ears were immediately stained in crimson as he awkwardly shifted his gaze to his lap, dumbfounded and staggered, scrambling to regain his composure. Oh, now this was a surprise. Why, did that childish title knock Ike totally out of his seat? Was there a double meaning, an ulterior motive behind that ridiculous name scheme? What was the reason for this baffled stupor?

_Ike?_

"What could you possibly want, Princey; did you just come here to gloat?" Directing the arrogant Prince's attention towards himself and away from Ike, — in order to relieve the poor mercenary of his desperately panicked hysteria, — Link bitterly narrowed his eyes at Marth's handsome face. How could he have the insolent _pluck_ to callously belittle Ike like that?

"Oh, _hardly_! I'm not that demonic, Link. I'm simply enjoying myself as the victorious winner." With a playful sneer, the Prince eagerly pulled on a haughty grin, mischievously pushing at Link's buttons, crossing their distinguished boundary lines as if butting heads was one of his utmost favorite pastimes. "It really is such a wonderful feeling."

_Shut your mouth, Princey! You are_ definitely _gloating!_

As the royal Prince snootily crossed his arms, he delighted in his own self-indulgent arrogance, speaking with a superior voice. Condescending, he scrutinized Link's current appearance with pompous eyes and spoke both indifferently yet disdainfully. "I must say, though, you make quite the spectacle. I mean, to be honest, I never expected you to appear as you do now. It's, well, rather bewildering."

"And you've just realized that now?" Link retaliated with a mocking scoff, tenaciously incorporating his gambles of crude escape into the conversation. He was quick to bargain for their exchanges of words and pacts, when he deviously lifted the side of his mouth into a sardonic smirk. "Do you want to take back our deal?"

"Have you lost your senses?" Soon, those conniving sapphire eyes widened in response to such a ludicrous question. And, in an instant, Marth cleverly jeered back with just as much attitude, grinning puckishly as if he could never possibly be wrong. "Of course I haven't changed my mind! In fact, I wish I'd lengthened the period of time. Two measly days won't satisfy me as thorough entertainment."

_Hmph!_

"Oh, and I've heard you two are involved in the Human Sculpture competition." Handsomely scheming and deceitful, Marth wore a charming smile interlaced with swindling deception just beneath the seams. It was an attractive smile indeed, but, _oh_, how Link desperately wished to wipe that dishonest, insincere, two-faced grin right off of his face! "Now wouldn't that be interesting, huh? I'll be there to watch, don't worry."

Oh, Goddesses, the mere thought of a sneering Princey observing their pathetic attempts just sent a chill down his meandering spine, his pumping blood running impossibly cold. To recreate a particular object with their own bodies; certainly all that pretentious Prince would do was holler and taunt and heckle at them, offering no more support than the other teams! Dreadfully mortified at the mere idea of humiliating himself not only in front of absolutely _everyone_, but that shrewdly fetching _Prince Marth_, Link immediately was overwhelmed with flustered and disheveled emotions. Oh, then that troublesome lump in his throat suddenly resurfaced, the tousled Hylian realized, fluttering those luscious golden curves repeatedly upon his pink cheeks.

"Y-you don't have to if you don't want to, you know!"

"Haha, very funny, Link." Deliberately, the haughty Prince Marth leisurely turned on his heel, indicating his proper leave. Well, at least now, he honestly did speak the slightest bit more _humanely_ and politely, departing with a most chivalrous note. "Well, best of luck to the both of you in the contest. I'm looking forward to it."

Although, there certainly was a hint of expectation in his regal voice, and it suggested the existence of his eager anticipation. Oh, but of course he simply had to finish his cordial sentence cunningly, when that handsomely clever grin teasingly perked at the sneaky corner of those lips, that dastardly Prince! That appalling charm would definitely thwart his potential chances of ever savoring a love, — that much was certain! Who could ever be attracted to such a pleasant _liar_, if no one could even tell fact from fiction, the candid truth from traitorous deceit? Link would never accept such a wavering loyalty and an inconstant devotion! Such a lack of faith could only result in a lack of trust.

As those obnoxiously snobbish strides gradually faded away into the distance, the blond Hylian swiftly recollected his initial thoughts and realized how silent his poor friend became throughout their foolish ridiculing. With a glance of concerned unease piloted in the quiet mercenary's direction, Link instantly dismissed his troubled feelings of loathing and despair for the Prince, those brilliant pools of aquamarine drenched with apprehension and soaked with kind morality. Soon, the blond Hylian leaned closer with absolute haste and distress, rupturing spontaneously through Ike's personal space, — inclining forward much too closely for his discomfort to even remotely disperse, instead reinforcing that anxiety, — and attempting to make stout eye contact. Gently and softly, a tender hand was placed upon the bewildered mercenary's shoulder and he immediately winced, flinched, and quickly withdrew from his harmless touch.

Somewhat hurt by this startling disapproval of support, Link's wistfully pursed lips dragged downward into a pensive frown as he removed his hand and respectfully kept his humble distance. When he spoke, he spoke timidly and uncertainly, nonchalantly brushing aside the meddlesome tresses of blond that disrupted his vision. "Hey, Ike, are you alright?"

"Uh — yeah, I-I've never been better!" Oh, the frantic mercenary nearly jumped out of his seat! And he still refused stubbornly to look directly at him; were the distant walls so much more interesting?

"Are you sure?" With a doubtful expression adorning his face, once again Link casually combed his fingers through those gorgeous blond locks, golden strands caught between those slender fingers. And, upon releasing his generous hand, they instantly glided back over his forehead again. Dismayed by his friend's persistent secrecy, the troubled Hylian inquired curiously on the subject of the matter and became rather straightforward, aiming bluntly at his point of interest. "Well, it just seemed like you were really bothered by being called, — what was it, — a love-sick puppy? Oh, what was that about anyway, I wonder?"

"It must have just been some random name scheme of his." Ike quickly offered, perhaps even a little _too_ sudden of a response, as the hysterical mercenary soon realized that and hastily added onto his abrupt notion. "I'm almost entirely sure that's just what it was."

"No, I don't think that's it."

With that dwindling pause, only meager moments were spared before a lumbering clamor of impatient feet trampled against the floor, dramatically getting louder and louder as a certain man in ecstatic blue approached the two companions yet again. Faint yet drastic, a familiarly booming voice burst through their gracious dialogue before they could even—

"LINK! IKEY-POO!"

Oh, great Goddesses.

"Hey, guys! The practice game's finally gathering their participants!" That enthusiastic Captain Falcon informed them matter-of-factly, with that ridiculously eager grin pulling perhaps even humorously at the ends of his lips. Dazed momentarily after such an unforeseen outburst, which demolished their unusually frequent barrier of silence, the two friends blinked rapidly in response to the vigorous Captain's updated news.

—_Wait, what was that?_

"Geez, you guys are sitting really far away." Rather steadfast and ill-mannered, Captain Falcon simply muttered this aloud as he sharply scuttled around the table, where the baffled Hylian and the disoriented mercenary were seated cordially beside one another. Once the thrilled man was perfectly disrupting their breakfasts with his prying and meddlesome interruption, the two friends regarded him silently with enlarged eyes. "C'mon, you guys have to come, too, if you really want to join! Hurry, you two, let's go!"

Oh, Goddesses! That blasted game was already prepared? Well, wouldn't this be much too early and premature? Link hardly even gathered his own daring valor, let alone touched his tedious food! How could he ever possibly play in such a vulnerable state, especially now that that bothersome Princey was apparently expecting much out of him? Goodness gracious, there was just no possible escape route, was there? Those merciful means of euphoria and blissful liberty didn't exist. Oh, that by itself was too much to handle. Soon, perhaps _too_ soon now, the time was foreboding and imminent, the precise moment when Link would attend the party of _Human Sculpture_; it was almost completely identical to presenting himself to the entire vicinity's residents! Certainly there would be plenty of controversy and commotion and tension, and that was simply overwhelming a thought alone, and _goodness_, there lurched and hurtled his rampaging heart—

"C'mon!" Out of seemingly nowhere, there suddenly attached a strong grasp clenched about the stunned Hylian's arm. It wasn't necessarily painful to the touch, steady fingers sinking purposefully into his flesh, but it was definitely passionate and fervently ardent. With a spirited essence thriving within Captain's sturdy build, Link truly was influenced by it. After all, the time would've arrived eventually, whether he liked it or not. And the sooner it was over, the better; the certain embarrassment wouldn't nearly be as heavy if Link submitted to his own unflinching brazenness now rather than later. Willingly accepting Captain's relentless heaves and hauls, the blond Hylian surrendered and permitted him to yank him aside. Obviously concerned, Ike soon followed, which left whatever remained of their tender breakfasts to be eagerly abandoned.

"I'll join you and Ikey-poo, since, — after all, — you'll need more than just two people in a team." As the zealous Captain spoke, he ravenously towed at Link's naked arm in an attempt to interweave their paces together, in which only brutal force brought that to reality and made it happen accordingly. Soon enough, not only was Captain Falcon in current possession of the blond Hylian's slender arm, but they were also aligned, which graciously provided much delight to the contented Captain.

"Hey." Ike, infuriated by that stingy possessiveness, his preposterous nickname, and simply _Captain Falcon _in general, quickly matched their pace and intentionally focused his every spiteful glower in the Captain's direction. Really, they were extremely venomous scowls, dripping with poisonous disdain; how defensive and hopelessly overprotective the mercenary was about his darling friend. "What about your own team? You can't just leave them."

"Oh, they'll understand!" Regardless, those severely harmful death glares bounced right off of the pleased Captain, who was too engrossed in his lousy daydreaming to even receive Ike's vicious daggers of blue. Instead of courteously keeping his hands to himself and soothing Ike's furious tides of seething wrath, Captain Falcon only further provoked that anger! Foolishly, he allowed his lusting hand to slither across the uneasy Hylian's tense shoulders, slowly across the nape of his neck, and very, _very_ gradually along his lower back. "Besides, I already told them beforehand about how more people would be joining, so naturally, the groups were going to have to disperse in order for the game to be fair. They're perfectly aware of it, don't worry, Ikey-poo."

"Oh, is that so."

_I swear, if you call me Ikey-poo one more time, I seriously won't hesitate to wring your neck, you dimwitted, lewd man!_

Albeit, as they sauntered interestedly toward the center of the swarming cafeteria, Ike's ferocious aggression diminished. Distracted, his attention was easily drawn to the congestion of characters that mingled amiably amongst one another. Meanwhile other individuals kindly volunteered to clear the area of the bothersome furniture, carefully handling them and gently placing them elsewhere. And then, of course, at this time, an unnaturally round and green opaque figure emerged amidst the crowds of social publicity. At first glance, the figure was nothing more than a peculiar green blob, but then that mess of green suddenly began to waddle in their direction. After much silent debate, eventually the hazy creature developed a very distinct shape, a familiar dinosaur.

_Yoshi?_

"Oh, would you look at that! We're a party of four, now!" Beaming with excitement, Captain Falcon exclaimed as he raised both hands in rapturous joy, that atrociously permanent smile plastered onto his face. How strange that smirk was; well, certainly, it was a truthfully honest grin, but it has been sitting there for so long, they could only begin to question it and its astounding endurance level. "See, here, let me introduce you guys to the other groups first. I'm ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent sure that these will be the same teams during the competition itself, so it'll definitely be good to learn about them even just a bit. Dramatic information such as their thought processes and cooperation during the game will be crucial. Pay attention, now!"

Simply put, — Captain Falcon's bizarre summaries aside, — there were five collective teams in all, which certainly included theirs. Well, the smallest grouping was actually theirs respectively, consisting of Link, Ike, Captain Falcon, and Yoshi. Primarily due to the fact that their cluster was limited to four individuals, every other team was considerably much loftier. One of the largest teams was enclosed to Snake, Wolf, Samus, Jigglypuff, Red, and Sonic. The other hefty assembly contained all of Mario, Luigi, Peach, Kirby, Olimar, and King Dedede. These were currently the two largest groups, with six formidable competitors within each of them.

Well, to be completely honest, the team Captain Falcon was originally a member of was initially the most enormous, with previously seven people rather than six before the impulsive Captain briskly abandoned them to join theirs. That former team consisted of Fox, Falco, Lucario, Meta Knight, Diddy Kong, and Wario. And finally, last but not least, Yoshi's former team of boisterous characters, — and probably the loudest, the most obnoxious, and the most immature, — Pit, Roy, Toonie, Ness, and Pikachu were amidst the rowdy group.

The destined theme had already been decided to be _household utility items_.

"Okay, with our teams assembled and accounted for, we'll have Princess Peach come around with the bucket of items. You all know what to do. Each team grabs only one slip of paper, which will reveal your object." Leading the genial horde of contestants, a pudgy little man in a denim jumpsuit fairly discerned everyone's presences and delivered the simplistic instructions through his thickly accented voice. And, meanwhile, the delighted Princess Peach happily swung and careened around to each group, her graceful ensemble of abundant pink fabrics gently brushing against the floor as she pranced along with cheerful buoyancy. Funny how, despite the merry Princess Peach's radiant optimism, one huddled gathering of individuals would groan with regretful disappointment upon realizing their unsatisfactory object, and yet another would easily contrast that disgruntled frustration with joyous cheers, hollers, festivities, and jolly applause. "You have precisely ten minutes to devise a plan for your team! Start brainstorming!"

Ultimately, that enraptured display of lavishly pink draperies and cloths hummed and skipped along in their direction soon enough, performing her pirouetting steps with exuberantly positive springs in each stride. Once the affectionate Princess frolicked towards them and came to an eager stop, her fine melody abruptly concluded. Gazing at them imploringly and expectantly with those giant blue eyes, she raised the bucket. And, surprisingly enough, even with a loud mouth as obnoxious as hers, she never spoke a peep at them. Not even the slightest comment or the littlest remark about Link's condition — wait, did the almighty Princess Zelda already spread her destructive word?

"Go on, grab one." Casually imposing the responsibility upon the blond Hylian, Captain Falcon bluntly directed the command at Link as he leisurely stroked that deliciously smooth lower back. Only until the sheepish Hylian proceeded forward at the bucket, — whether to avoid the shameless Captain's hand or simply because he'd attained his wits and courage, — of course Ike was exclusively bothered! Beyond even the meager comprehension of psychiatrists, his upsetting emotions of irritation were bubbling just below the surface. "Oh, and choose a really good one!"

Obviously reluctant, Link deliberately lowered his nervous hand into the bucket. Almost immediately, he could feel the several fragments of paper beneath his anxious fingertips. Judging by how often he felt the jagged angles of the folded corners, there was a countless number of items to select from. To think that the one inevitable piece he plucked from the nest of miniscule sheets would determine their fated object, — that was just beyond unnerving!

As the fretful Hylian retrieved one neatly folded piece of paper, Peach simply smiled at him and swiftly withdrew the bucket. "Good luck!"

Then she suddenly departed for the remaining teams, with that shining glimmer of optimism once again reflected in her fluid movements, twirling and prancing and circling away.

Oh, Goddesses, what sort of mess has Link gotten himself entangled into now?

With a sudden lack of bravery, an ominous feeling of regret and foreboding misfortune welled up inside of the discouraged Hylian. For some unfathomable reason, there was an imminent peril that afflicted his fearlessness and ailed him with skepticism, threatening to gamble his public humiliation. Oh, but there was simply no turning back! By this time, Link already acknowledged the fact that there were no escape routes to avoid his problematic obstacles. Which was exactly why he asked himself, what was there to do? That indecent Captain Falcon continuously shot him glances of excited anticipation; it was a heaping pressure! Of course, Yoshi was hardly coherent or even intelligible, but one could easily assume the green dinosaur was impatiently yearning for the final revelation too.

Perhaps out of all of them, the generous mercenary was probably the most considerate and sympathetic of Link's current situation. Regarding him with gentle compassion in one moment, Ike lightheartedly urged him forward in the next. With playful jests interweaved in those benevolent gazes, the devoted mercenary encouraged him, as if to say the troubled Hylian at least deserved to enjoy the humorous game, since he'd always adored playing it.

For an ephemeral moment, a bittersweet instant, Link wasn't surrounded by Captain Falcon and Yoshi's adamantly demanding and assertive expressions, their presences momentarily obscuring and blurring away. Instead, it was the benign mercenary's presence that remained, his friendly demeanor soothing Link's unpleasant discomfort. In that one fleeting moment, the appeased Hylian mustered up the nerve to recollect himself. Ike was right. He _should_ have fun. _They_ should have fun. After all, didn't they earn that challenging happiness? What was it of anyone's business how he chose to dress today anyhow? And so, with a refreshed courage, determination, and eagerness, Link effortlessly undid the creased fold on the slip of paper.

_Washing Machine_

Within reality's brusque clutches once again, Captain Falcon's invigorated build swooped over the perplexed Hylian's shoulder — perhaps a little _too_ close to Link's exposed neck, that naughty expression accommodating his immoral face as he leaned in much too narrowly. Although briefly, the ill-mannered Captain still grazed that sweet, pristine, and unspoiled skin with the very tip of his chin. Oh, that impish misbehavior soon compelled Ike into enviously leaning forward as well, which jostled a baffled Captain Falcon backwards — to read the slip himself.

"Oh, so we're supposed to be a washing machine, huh?" Casually, the pleased mercenary propped his head upon Link's relaxing shoulder, marveling and admiring how close he was to that enticing flesh in which a delightful scent radiated.

"Yeah, but, it really makes me wonder. How do we form a washing machine with this little people?" With honest curiosity motivating him to contemplate over the various possibilities, the puzzled Hylian sighed reflectively and graciously swept his golden hair aside. Compliant to Ike's hushed counsel, Link allowed himself to be completely absorbed in the game, to be blithe and upbeat as he usually was.

"Well, I've got an idea." Captain Falcon suddenly proclaimed, which abruptly broke the two companions apart from their close familiarity. Of course, it was definitely the hotheaded mercenary who couldn't just forget about that tender intimacy, and how it was entirely that bothersome Captain's fault that their mutual harmony was rudely interrupted. Nonetheless, the ecstatically blue man continued on his prompt suggestion without even remotely faltering. "It's not that great, but it just might work!"

"Yeah? And what's that, exactly?" Awfully cynical, Ike questioned him, doubting the immodest Captain's ability to examine their potential opportunities beneficially. And, for a fleeting instant, their intensively burning eyes met, an imaginary combustion of their hostile glares bursting in between them; that was how fatally upset they were with one another.

"Well, we've got very limited time here, so let me make it brief: Ikey-poo here and I will raise Link over our heads."

"Wait, wait, wait, why me?" Bewildered and disoriented, the bemused Hylian jumped in and suspected the amusing idea. In disbelief of such a ludicrous proposal, Link drowned out the garrulous chatter of the room and processed his own thoughts carefully, that skeptical smile perched upon those soft pink lips. "Couldn't that simply be Yoshi? I mean, there's no difference as long as someone is lifted, right?"

"You're the smallest. And you're much lighter than Yoshi, which would literally be a huge burden off of our shoulders. Besides, I've got something exclusively planned for Yoshi; just hear me out." Returning such a delightful curl of those precious lips, Captain Falcon replied bluntly. "With that formation, we'll be the actual washing machine. And Yoshi, being the most colorful of us all, can represent the clothes."

"H-how?"

"Yoshi will get between me and Ike, and, umm, and maybe spin around with some article of clothing. They never said that wasn't allowed." Curving his searching head around hastily, Captain Falcon soon eagerly burst into a ridiculous grin as his meddling eyes glinted with mischief. Thrilled, his eyes landed directly upon Ike's rugged crimson cape. "Oh, that's perfect! Ike, give your cape to Yoshi, quickly!"

Oh, this was already beyond ridiculous! Hesitant, the reluctant mercenary relinquished his cape and sourly handed it to Yoshi, who looked at him curiously and produced some indistinct gurgling noise. At that bittersweet scene, — the comical interaction between the unwilling mercenary and the incoherent dinosaur, — Link realized the entertaining hilarity that followed such bizarre ideas within this game of amusement. With genuine interest in the game, the excited Hylian completely disregarded his "crucial condition" and sincerely enjoyed himself, modestly ignoring the subtle breeze that tickled him discreetly beneath his tunic. Earnest, Link wasn't honestly perturbed by his extreme lack of clothing and garbed attire. All he truly cared about was the time the irresistible laughter would be released, when everyone would be permitted to laugh and guffaw to their hearts' content. Once they announced the actual time for the individual teams to perform or present their object, — Link simply couldn't wait for it!

As the determined Captain Falcon huddled separately with Yoshi in a crude attempt to explain his clever plan, Ike casually sauntered beside the wistful Hylian, shooting rapid glimpses at him from the corner of his gorgeous blue eyes. With a nonchalant yawn, the handsome mercenary stretched his muscled limbs and positioned them behind his head. "You know, I'd really hate to admit it, but this idea isn't that bad, actually."

In response to this humble confession, Link laughed softly, chuckling as that remarkably warm smile settled on his cherubic face. "So, I see you finally acknowledge Captain Falcon's idea now, don't you?"

"I never said that, come on." Playful and mischievous, Ike said this with a charming grin.

"Oh, trust me, I know. It's almost insanely obvious. I can tell with just one glance how much dislike you display for each other." Again, that tender laughter escaped those luscious petals, those sweet lips. And yet, as if Link was bashfully embarrassed about his own mirthful smile, he quickly raised a gentle hand and sheepishly concealed those curled lips behind it. Oh, how incredibly driven was Ike by his enticed desire, craving, longing, and yearning hopelessly to taste that deliciously saccharine sugar himself. And then, oh-so-nostalgic and joyful, that enchanting Hylian fluttered those lengthy eyelashes that kissed the uttermost surface of his sun-kissed cheeks. Those golden curves quivered delicately upon his unspoiled skin as Link continuously blinked his beautiful cerulean eyes. "But, it _is _true that I haven't played _Human Sculpture_ in a while. I think it's really nice to be able to play it again."

_Despite being like _that_, — in that current state of affairs, — you're still happy about this?_

At that exact moment, as if someone somewhere had sensed Ike's dramatic concern and suspicion, his evidence was the pensive expression that soon masked Link's face. There definitely was a melancholy like no other that captured the brooding Hylian, who conceived a wistful sigh. As that preciously gentle smile faded, Link's eyes suddenly grew heavy and weary, drooping contemplatively over those brilliant pools of aquamarine. In reply to this blatant uncertainty, Ike was ultimately prepared to speak up, but then—

"Alright, time has run out! It's finally time for the judging!" Broadcasting this declaration aloud for each enthusiastic participant to hear, Mario's bright eyes eagerly browsed through every startled expression of ill-prepared status and skimmed over the several alarmed groups. For them, that ardent fervor was hardly comforting, but for the renowned little plumber, their panicked hysteria was vastly amusing! Eventually, as the frantic teams grew immensely anxious and simply overwrought with apprehension, Mario's wary eyes landed on one group in particular. "There, _you_, over there, — oh, which team is that? Oh! Well then — Yoshi's group will go first!"

_What?_

Brick on their heads, brick on their heads, this announcement felt as though a _brick just landed on their heads_! Why, such an appalling notification, which situated them beneath the daunting spotlight, that was just another maneuver to place them under a death sentence, wasn't it? Well, this would certainly be a tragic death for their public reputations as noble, proper, and decent characters — at least, that was how it was for the confounded Hylian. Oh, perhaps that handsomely cunning and shrewd and devious Prince was to blame for this, cleverly shielded by the large horde of oblivious people as he falsely advised Mario behind the lines. Perhaps it was _he_ who recommended "Yoshi's group" to present first. Perhaps it was even _he_ who proposed this game, this blasted game of _Human Sculpture_, ever since the beginning! Oh, _well_, whether or not it was that dastardly Prince Marth's fault, that didn't change the excruciating fact that right now, _all eyes were on them_.

"Please do not consider my choosing as a way to belittle you and your friends, but, having your team to go first is probably the smartest decision. Not only is your group the smallest, it's also the most convenient." As the little red plumber put reasoning behind his apparently biased selection, every overwhelming pair of eyes purposefully singled them out, providing more than enough pressure on their uneasy figures. Of course, it was the frantic Hylian who was the most nervous, uneasy, and restless. Burdened by his further humiliating absence of undergarments, his throbbing heart furiously hurtled and tackled and lunged at Link's restrained ribcage. In fact, it was his writhing heart that drowned out the sound of Mario's strong accent and everyone's silent judgments, pounding and thrashing loudly against his eardrums. "If you need a moment, that's quite alright. But we'll only grant you with a measly two minutes. Use it wisely; we are patiently waiting for you."

There were snooping, prying, and meddling eyes absolutely _everywhere_ he looked, in which placed a very heavy dread upon the frenzied Hylian's shoulders. Petrified and speechless, Link could only feel the rapid sprinting of his racing heart. Every other body part failed to comply with his requests — his feet simply refused to lift themselves off of the ground, as if they were helplessly trapped within cinderblocks. And his limp arms, they were suddenly unbearably heavy and useless, as though the sturdy bones and muscles constructed within those limbs melted into jelly. Oh, and his poor bustling head, why, it felt as though it contained nothing but air, empty and lost and yet exceedingly frantic with every buzzing sensation of hysteria.

"Psst, Link! Hey! Link! Get over here already, c'mon!" Faint whispers, no, it was a vaguely familiar voice that peevishly hissed out at him. "Will you please just pull him over here, Ike? The guy's frozen stiff!"

Oh, why wouldn't his heart _stop_? This wasn't the first time Link has ever played the usually lighthearted game, this wasn't a drastic trial by jury, this wasn't a brutal accusation, this wasn't an incident where the cookies were stolen from the cookie jar — the distressed Hylian was just beyond himself. Feverish, that wincing organ punched aggressively at his narrowing chest, even threatening to burst right through his ribcage! Although, fortunately for Link, his benevolent friend pulled him back into harsh reality, reeling him into their huddled knot of crouching figures.

In an instant, the bewildered Hylian was clustered securely within the tight circle of his bickering teammates. For a brief moment, both Captain Falcon and Yoshi shot him reprimanding glimpses, which scolded him for his rattled and lost floundering. Of course, Link was definitely feeling repentant, as he continuously attempted to swallow the ascending lump in his throat in order to apologize formally. Although, his faltering voice was hopelessly caught on his horrified anxiety, and he found that he just couldn't. Then, a sudden elbow nudged at his ticklish side, as if to put his panicked mind at ease. Good-humoredly, it was the sympathetic mercenary, who appeared almost remorseful himself, that concerned smile adorning his handsome face.

_Ike_ — oh, how kind and compassionate of him; just one glance at those caring blue eyes was enough to appease the blond Hylian's troubled discomposure. Flustered and surprisingly sheepish, Link smiled.

"Well, I know everything's a little sudden right now and they respectfully claim not to be patronizing us, but, guys, you've got to admit: they're definitely still preying on us." Nodding thoughtfully as he preached on for reassurance, Captain Falcon beckoned for a faithful commitment of his three teammates. Although the ecstatically blue man in the crimson helmet wasn't the greatest possible encouragement, their group admired his efforts and kindly nodded along with him. "But let's remain positive! C'mon, we can do this!"

"Yeah!" Despite the faint uncertainty hinted briefly within the fading tones of their voices, Ike and Link hollered in unison to Yoshi's incomprehensible language. Of course, aside from the enthusiastic Captain's pathetic attempts at being a comforting source of support, their team was truly eager to triumph in that game.

As they cooperatively moved and gestured at one another to acquire their positions, they whispered noisily amidst the polite quietness of the other participants, — excluding the boisterous people who couldn't help themselves, of course. They were always boisterous and loud, regardless of the strict regulations, bursting into obnoxious guffaws amongst their own jesting party of uproarious chaos.

Anyhow, back to the worrisome group, who were suddenly blathering and prattling out of a reemerged panic once again. Somewhat overcome past their intimidated dread of the massive crowd, they were still particularly frantic. Although, to be perfectly exact, it was the disoriented Hylian who brought up the countless questions, glancing at his honest teammates with looks of incredulity and doubt. Skeptical and whispering his innumerable insecurities, Link's gaze wandered from Ike, to Yoshi, to Captain Falcon, and wound back around in a frequent cycle. "Okay, um, wait, h-how is this really supposed to work?"

"Just sit down." Captain Falcon finally directed him in one prevailing motion, forcibly permitting the apprehensive Hylian to be seated upright. And then, authoritative and firm, he quickly shot an expectant glimpse at the robust mercenary and whispered loudly. "Ikey-poo, you grab his arms, I'll get his le—"

"Wait, why are you the one grabbing him by the legs?" Perhaps inconveniently upset and exasperated, Ike responded with an infuriated whisper, — which honestly shouldn't even be referred to as a _whisper_, since the two were really only yelling and shouting at a considerably quieter level.

"What do you mean, why am _I _the one to grab him there?" Quick to anger, the irate Captain soon retorted to Ike's riled hisses with an equally distributed fury. "You're the one who stood behind him; isn't that an implication that you were going to grab the arms?"

"No." Heatedly cross, Ike retaliated with his sardonic attitude. Oh, it was almost as if the two aggressive men were completely unaware of their surroundings! Well, they certainly were attempting to whisper, — supposedly, which weren't accurately presumed whispers at all, — but they were producing quite a commotion, it was absolutely despicable! "No, that's called an _assumption_. You're just assuming things!"

"Why the _f-zero_ are you so bothered by it anyhow, Ikey-poo?"

"Stop bickering!" At last, it was the agitated Hylian who finally rebuked and jabbed and chided at their tense quarreling, which calmed their wrathful hostility. Tolerantly seated there, Link's meager presence alone disciplined them and quickly whipped them back into place, those astonishing cerulean eyes raging and storming with vivid hues of blue, as though a rampant sea had plunged into his pools of aquamarine. Meanwhile, waggling his immense tail as he pressed beseechingly at the two irritable men, Yoshi eagerly agreed with the prominent Hylian. "Can we please just get this over with—?"

"Your allotted time is up." With that very same accent, Mario announced this as he casually peered down at his watch. Although, no matter how indifferent the renowned little plumber was about this apparently lighthearted game, this was probably one of the most dreadfully stressful things they had done in a while. Mario's plainly broadcasted words were like hectic weights, each syllable became a strenuous pierce at their racing hearts. "Please 'sculpt' your object."

_Oh, this felt more like the competition itself rather than a measly practice game!_

"Okay, okay!" Strained and panicked, Captain Falcon surrendered from his crabby anger, shooting Ike a disdainful glimpse of contempt and pointed blame. "It's not my fault we're losing time, though. Blame _that_ guy, being fussy just because he didn't get what he wanted."

"Whatever!" Stubbornly disregarding that look of scornful abhorrence, Ike simply yielded to their subtle agreement to move on past this horrific game. With an ebbing resentment, the anxious mercenary felt a suddenly hefty swelling within the confines of his chest as he gazed down at Link. Oh, at this point, his anger completely receded and vanished without a single trace, examining the seemingly distraught and uncomfortable Hylian breathe erratically. Ruffled and flustered once more, Link's chest heaved with each sporadic gasp.

_Oh, great Goddess, Ashera, please lend me your strength and courage._

With much hesitance and timidity, Ike carefully seized the mortified Hylian from behind, the incredibly soft texture of his cotton tunic gentle beneath his tense hands. And, just a little ways further underneath that tenderly green garb was an even smoother and warmer surface, composed of Link's innocently pure skin. Oh, how absolutely warm, how rosy pink, how affectionately nice that flesh must be, unblemished and untainted and sweet. Why, the bashful mercenary nearly lost it for a moment!

"Come _on_, Ikey-poo!" Teetering with a blatant intolerance, Captain Falcon impatiently motioned for him to move, carelessly fastening those inconsiderate hands of his around those generously charming legs. Immediately the sheepish Hylian yelped as his entire frame sky-rocketed in temperature, modestly scarlet, crimson, even _tomato_ red!

_Oh, you're definitely in for it now, Captain. You've thoughtlessly made an enemy of me; once this is over—_

Well, with the uttermost reluctance, Ike grudgingly acted upon Captain Falcon's final cue. At once, they grabbed the restless Hylian, hoisted him even higher, and raised him up over their heads. And, as they did so, the defensive mercenary cautiously and suspiciously scrutinized that shameless Captain with a severe hair-trigger alert. If that immoral Captain Falcon even dared to spare such a lusting glance upon a single area of Link's humbly nervous body, Ike vowed in his head to completely _destroy_ _him_! Of course, though, even the slightest glimpse was inevitable. Perhaps it was simply too tempting, seducing, and appealing?

Oh, just one peep at that enticed face was enough to prove Ike's loathed distrust! Unashamed, the brazen Captain attempted to fulfill his unabashed desires, foolishly feigning those wandering eyes. With a bold craving to relish in the beguiling appearance of enticing skin, concealed beneath that famous olive-green apparel, Captain Falcon was beyond piqued to lavishly feast his eyes on such preciously cherished parts of the body. Oh, Link above them was obviously unaware of their lustfully urged probing. Ike anticipated the next destination of those snooping eyes, direly hoping he truly wasn't accurate in his predication, but he certainly was, and Captain Falcon still persisted — _okay, he definitely crossed the line now!_

Of course, the lividly infuriated mercenary couldn't just toss Link aside and ferociously attack that idiotic Captain with as much vicious displeasure as he'd been containing, especially as Yoshi suddenly lumbered into the space between them. Oh, it was madly exasperating! Obliviously hindering Ike's nasty scheming, Yoshi grappled ignorantly at the fuming mercenary's crimson cape as he whirled and twirled carelessly within that small space. Well, with that final piece of the puzzle, they honestly did create the perfect "_human sculpture_" of a washing machine. For the most part, the other residents were thoroughly amused by their display, regardless of their appalled demeanor at the chagrinned Hylian's lack of attire. Eyes were laid upon them from every excruciating direction, observing their apprehensions, examining their dreads, and scrutinizing their anxieties.

Generally speaking though, they performed excellently. Praised for both their outstanding idea and their magnificent execution, their team created a superb sculpture. It certainly raised the basic standards for everyone else, uniting their own assemblages as they were threaded together with an edgy uncertainty.

But of course that savored moment of seamless brilliance simply couldn't last forever, oh, — everything was perfectly fine and dandy until—

One accident led to chaos.

While he was haphazardly spinning around with careless haste, each of Yoshi's big red shoes hammering wildly against the floor, the oblivious dinosaur stomped rather harshly on the engaged Captain Falcon's vulnerable foot.

Immediately, the agonized Captain distressingly howled with pain and, perhaps due to an automatic reflex, impulsively released one hand to tend to his troubled foot. Unfortunately, he wasn't nearly quick enough to realize his crucial mistake, faltering and staggering helplessly. Although, it was Link who did grasp reality, even startlingly, recovering promptly from his baffled incredulity as he desperately flailed his foot for any available platform — which instantly steered the current situation even deeper into such brutal calamity. Completely accidental, the disoriented Hylian's foot frantically found Captain Falcon's face and violently pressed on it. And if that wasn't enough, it didn't stop there. Unintentionally, Link's unsteady foot shoved off of the yowling Captain and caused the bewildered man to stumble backwards, which resulted in him and Ike reeling in the opposite direction.

The stunned mercenary, being Link's last remaining support from below, wavered and swayed with terrible balance. Horrendously uneven and tottering, he simply couldn't regain his initial composure. Oh, consciously knowing they were ultimately going to crash, Ike quickly reached for Link's panicked figure and hastily cradled him as they bitterly plummeted to the ground with harsh thuds.

_What — what just happened?_

Before they even realized it, the entire room erupted boisterously into an upsetting variety of noises — hollers, jests, quips, whistles, and taunts of every sort could be heard from every unbearable direction of that forsaken cafeteria. At first, Link could only naïvely question their tormenting witticisms. Of course, this was all because their team made one humiliating mistake, right? Now they were simply paying the price with the crowd's ridiculing jeers and catcalls, which penetrated directly through their initial joy and previous amusement.

His vision blurry and unclear, from both the callous impact and his pathetic lack of senses, Link could hardly understand the situation. All he could even remotely sense of his surroundings was the fuzzy riot of uproarious noise, this distinctly robust scent swarming hotly around him, and this particularly warm sensation which embraced him with an exclusive gentleness. Defenseless and feeble, Link apprehended the solid fact that he landed sorely on his tender side; the aching discomfort within the area confirmed it. Although, strangely enough, there certainly was a passionate heat that clung tightly about his slim torso, his slender waist, and h-h-_his ass!_ Oh, such a peculiar sensation, this nauseating hotness hugged him in the smallest, tightest, and snuggest nooks and crannies, around every slightest curve and bend of his body — what was this heat, _what was happening?_

Helplessly lost, the frantic Hylian quickly grew hysterical and suddenly began to have trouble breathing, fluttering those golden eyelashes rapidly upon his flushed cheeks. Gasping, panting, and gulping heavily with each flustered breath, Link realized the hideous truth. Oh, with one revealing glance behind him, he discovered the source of that powerfully intense heat, and he perceived that their team as a whole wasn't the primary target for judgmental eyes — but _him_ and this baffled _mercenary_, who unknowingly produced that extremely potent warmth, lying vulgarly above him in the crudest, most ambiguous, and in the most suggestive manner.

Oh, holy Nayru, good Farore! Oh, in great Din's name, — oh,_ Goddesses!_

Goodness gracious — what in the world, — the impossible tides of Link's overpowering emotions were more than anything he could bear! It was absolutely excruciating! Dreading the rapid racing of his leaping heart, which was far beyond repair now, it nearly shattered through his constricted chest! The frantic Hylian's poor restrained chest suddenly felt twice as small, when his frantically hurdling heart felt twice as large — oh, its constant pace and noise even contested the drastic uproar of the entire cafeteria, how everything became hazy and fuzzy, thumping, pounding, and thrashing against his consciousness. Like his radical heart.

Disgruntled, forlorn, and overwhelmed with emotions, Link buried every badgering thought of petrified hesitance and hastily scurried away from beneath Ike's handsome build. No matter how unreasonably charming or enthralling that kind mercenary was, all the dismayed Hylian really cared about at that exact moment was a blissful escape. Why, he'd rather perish instantaneously in everyone's presence than face this chastening humiliation, this relentless bombard of loutish eyes and rude sneers! Not even a friend as close as Ike could prevent him, Link firmly decided, as he scrambled helplessly onto his unsteady feet and scampered desperately towards the safety of the empty corridors. Hopefully, there wouldn't be so much pressure that could assault him with scornful decrees and raucous assumptions in the hallways.

"L-Link!" It was Ike's concerned holler, attempting urgently to thwart Link's despairing attempts and call him back. But, considering the present situation at hand, why would the mortified Hylian actually deliberate over it? If anything, he'd much rather retreat into the darkest, most hidden, and loneliest corner in the entire vicinity than personally encounter those obnoxious expressions in the cafeteria.

_Oh, Princess Zelda, you're absolutely right._ With a painful thump from each leather boot, he frantically trudged forward, completely overcome with a countless number of meddlesome matters. Oh, each pounding thud of hard leather in brutal contact with the trampled floor was equivalent to the dramatic thrashing of Link's severely throbbing heart, hurdling and vaulting and hammering away with such little a sense. Also, that ridiculously dense lump arose in the troubled Hylian's tightening throat once again, suppressing and restraining his erratic breaths. In addition, there was a gathering of bitter globules upon Link's glistening marble eyes — blinking swiftly was difficult alone, as well as breathing and swallowing such a guilty morale and an immensely hurt pride. _I was wrong all along, your Highness, it was my foolish mistake. Over and over again, you warned me yet, but I stubbornly refused to listen._

Longing hopelessly for innocent freedom and a silent liberty in his own lonesome, he dreadfully pushed through the obstinate crowd. Of course, that only asked for further hindrances and loathsome trouble—

"Hey, where are you going, pretty-legs?"

"Yeah, don't leave yet! The party just started getting hot!"

"At least flash those beauties over here before you go!"

"Yeah, why don't you raise one of those legs for us?"

How, how absolutely repulsive! How could these supposedly respected and highly esteemed characters ever possibly consent such discourteous, boorish, and ill-mannered jeers to escape their lips? It was beyond the chagrinned Hylian's comprehension, definitely certain, as he desperately attempted to blink the fresh layer of lustrous glimmer away from his unsettled pools of aquamarine. Oh, his distressed and embarrassed body was just as stubbornly pigheaded as those obnoxious spectators, his cerulean eyes gleaming layers upon layers of fresh moisture, his anxious heart beating and walloping and pounding against his delicate chest, and his emotions climbing and building block after block.

_Marth, was this what you wanted, my public humiliation? Are you satisfied with yourself? Oh, don't you see? You won already. You won._

Meanwhile Samus, silently absorbing the dramatic scene that just demonstrated itself before her, felt particularly remorseful for the distressed Hylian. Of course she wasn't heartlessly jabbing at Link with such abhorrent comments and disgusting remarks, — although at first, she did enjoy playfully hollering at their inappropriate positioning; but they were simply mischievous jokes, nothing beyond that, — but, regardless, that didn't change anything.

The blond Hylian was gone.

* * *

_Look Forward to the Next Chapter!_

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**Side Notes:**

**-** Well, this took forever to write. Congratulations to those of you who read all of it, beloved readers.

**-** I'll be perfectly honest with you my beloved readers, Human Sculpture is definitely not as embarrassing as it seems, unlike here. I played it forever ago in this one group-thing-fling. Almost every week some years ago, we would gather and play games and mingle intently among one another. So that one day, when we played Human Sculpture, I thought the group with the washing machine was exceptionally clever. I mean, our group was assigned to be a _can opener_. It was absolutely terrible! What kind of "human sculpture" would that be? Oh well, what's past is past, I suppose. Still, we laughed so hard at the washing machine! Not kidding.

**-** I just realized that the humorous game is called "Human Sculpture", regardless of the fact that the majority of the players of the game in this _fanfic_ are _not human_. Hm.

- Let's just assume Link chose _not_ to wear his _chainmail_. Ah, this has been bothering me for the longest; I was wondering the most irrelevant and trivial aspects of this! I was shamelessly curious: would the chainmail inflict pain around that area? Would it be painfully heavy, with its structure composed of metal? Would it be considered a bothersome hindrance? And so forth. Therefore I just decided — _forget the chainmail_. If he was already stated wearing it in the previous chapters, _please ignore them_. I haven't read the first chapters in forever. I hardly remember them.

**-** Um, well "Ashera" is the Goddess from Ike's game, Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance and Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn. Meanwhile "Din," "Nayru," and "Farore" are the three Goddesses from pretty much every Legend of Zelda game.

**-** **Random:** If you'd like, you can actually ask Link your own personal questions or curious inquiries on Tumblr and he pinky-swears to answer each one; he's known as "_ask-pinky-linky_"! Check them out. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

**-** Why, oh, why am I always so unmotivated? In parts, the chapter is well-written, but in others, far, _far_ worse. My inspiration, motivation, and dedication to my work always drift, and I absolutely loathe how they do! I blame the forsaken Writer's Block. That stupid block can just go wither in a corner.

**-** I think I'm going to reduce the amount of profanity throughout the story. I'm pretty sure, after the previous chapters, this chapter's level of vocabulary is enough on its own, right?

**-** I promise I'll try to continue this story within the next two-three weeks! If anything, this story should update weekly, but if worse comes to worst, it will be monthly.

**-** _Reviews?_ I'd love to hear your opinions! I have no intention to request too much of you, my beloved readers, but allow me to overcome my mistakes with your constructive criticism, supporting me with your kindest words of advice and assistance.


	4. Day 1 Afternoon — Sexuellement harcelé

"The Bet He Lost"

By animefan752

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**Caution:** Well, I suppose there _is_ one rather dreadful shenanigan to warn you about in this chapter, my beloved readers. There is _yaoi_, otherwise known as the intimacy between two males, — that is, if you recognize this kind of situation to be _yaoi_; although, the chapter title itself already kind of hints at it, doesn't it? Have someone translate it if you don't already know — there is _yaoi_ in this episode as well as horrified humiliation.

**Disclaimer:** Super Smash Bros does not belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo and company, respectively.

**Warning:** There is _yaoi_, _yaoi_, _yaoi_ — if you didn't already get the picture. I've received several complaints about falsely advertising my work before, regardless of the fact that I am 101% certain that I've put all of my precautionary alarms up. I warned them about how the ever-so-fearsome _yaoi_ exists in the story, and yet they still persist to butcher, insult, and offend me and my work — and my blood, sweat, and _tears_!

**A/N:** Hello, everyone! I must apologize! I know I promised to progress with the story before the end of October, but, you see, my schedule has been rather abused these past few weeks. Now that the first marking period has come to an inevitable close, I'm scrambling to simply understand both my math and chemistry studies, as well as struggling to fit in some studying for my other classes. My teachers have been quite ruthless, assigning work after work, essay after essay, lesson after lesson, project after project, it's _overwhelming_!

Regardless, please pardon my lousy condolences. I'm seriously stressed out, — and I definitely admit that I stress easily, making mountains out of molehills, especially under pressure, — but rest assured! Another chapter has finally arrived, so let us rejoice in celebration of this grand day! Hurray, festivities!

_Enjoy_, my beloved readers, as I've incorporated a rather baffling event to come in this chapter! Indulge in my frivolous work and follow along in Link's dilemma as I frantically try to continue this story!

* * *

Remorse. Hysteria. A rampant apprehension. Oh, these were the various emotions that simply refused to disperse tranquilly, clotting within his cluttered mind and straining his pounding, aching, hurtling heart. Link could definitely feel it, again and again, that writhing organ of his lurching uncomfortably as it leapt up to his throat; the painful lump that ailed his convenient ability of speech.

Fortunately for him, the broom closet provided much comfort, albeit surprisingly enough. Overwrought with unease, the troubled Hylian was relieved to finally be alone. After all, there he could actually catch his stuttering breaths, when previously they always hitched in his throat for being in the bothersome hot seat. In comparison to that congested cafeteria jostling with obnoxious people, that janitorial closet was like Link's own private heaven, soothing and quiet, where he could peacefully regain himself and think and carefully process his current situation and simply _breathe_.

With the door shut hastily behind him, Link carelessly slumped and collapsed against the tidily arranged shelves of towels and linens, causing the neat racks to rattle with noise. He descended ungracefully to the floor with an exhausted thud. Oh, honestly, the feverish Hylian couldn't care less about the clean fabrics plummeting sloppily to the ground. Meddlesome thoughts pestered him too much about other matters, about everything else, about that stupid bet.

Well, after what just happened, Link was definitely in high spirits now. Oh, who would he ever fool with such a frivolous act? Great Goddesses! Obviously, the day was entirely ruined! The blatant churning and whirling of his miserable emotions was enough evidence, gusting fiercely inside his trembling frame and swelling into a violent storm of disquiet. And knowing this terrible conflict and discord continued on for another twenty-four hours ― absolutely _dreadful_! What should he do? What _could_ he do? _What?_

And let's not forget about Ike. What could possibly be running through that mercenary's indigo head?

Oh, it was Link's foolish mistake for abandoning him in that earlier state of affairs of hysteria and panic, deserting and leaving Ike to handle those rowdy hecklers by himself! It was really heartless of him, Link knew that. It was rude, inconsiderate, brutal, and ultimately cruel of him. Oh, those hideous taunts must have certainly belittled the dazed mercenary! He should have stayed to defend him! Well, even so, back there the humiliated Hylian was overcome with _embarrassment_, a vulnerability he didn't acknowledge, a feeling he had never grown accustomed to. Link didn't know what else to do; it was uttermost chaos. Could Ike blame him?

Sighing, the dismayed Hylian was certainly aware of the friction between his gentle conscience and his own self-esteem. But, soon enough, the tremendous guilt filled him up to the brim. Yep, that remorse consumed him, trampling upon that soft lightness of heart, fragile and tender. Oh, he felt inexplicably terrible! As Link glumly folded his bare legs to his chest, he felt his torso swell with a throbbing ache.

_Ike—_

Yes, the baffled mercenary remained in that bustling cafeteria, where the wearisome tension was far from quelling. In fact, it was even _escalating_! Sure, the main source of all their mocking entertainment abruptly fled and exited the room, but the thoughts, ideas, and fleeting pictures all lingered, teetering and reeling, replaying in their imaginative heads. It was a perilous caution of hazards, a warning sign — that this was only the beginning. Obviously, with this unsettling air, Ike was displeased. Why, the bothered mercenary even released a compressed tautness, stiff and rigid from discontent. One glimpse into those hard-edged stares could potentially petrify someone!

She could tell.

Sympathetic and repentant, Samus was also upset about the current situation. Nonchalantly brushing her lusciously blonde hair over her shoulder, she casually glanced around the room, her electrifying blue eyes darting swiftly from place to place.

Various expressions accommodated the individual faces, contorted and twisted by their kaleidoscopic emotions. Some beheld looks of shock, bewilderment, and a sort of disgruntled astonishment. Others meanwhile were much more anxious, expectant, and eagerly lustful for more. Such atrocious faces were hardly good for the troubled heart, or even remotely soothing. Nonetheless, it was absolutely certain now that — with that stunning incident, — the entire Smash Mansion vicinity was jostling with a turmoil that hasn't climbed so high in a long time.

Besides that, Samus briefly noted, it was painfully obvious that Link would be diligently avoiding any contact whatsoever for quite some time. It was absolutely unreasonable, but also his only way of hopeful escape, which would thus make his forlorn lonesome understandable. Still, if the sheepish Hylian truly wished to appease the mounting uproar, he would deal with it face to face, personally and cleverly and _courageously_. Well, at least Samus believed so.

Perhaps Samus herself needed to knock some sense into him.

Impishly, she felt a mischievous grin pull at the ends of her pink lips. And, as Samus finally gathered the resolve to find the blond Hylian flustered and ruffled with his torrent of emotions, she casually lifted one foot, one after the other, and was just about to get an encouraged move on when—

"Well, hello there, _Samus_." It was that troubling man, Snake. Yes, there he was, clad properly in his metal gear, and yet, awfully displeasing with that unwelcome disruption. Repulsive and ill-mannered, Snake casually puffed smoke in her face, that damned cigarette perched carelessly between his toothy grin. Oh, he was poisoned with dissatisfaction's resulting haze of pollution, smog, and unyielding temptation. If only the intoxicated man _tried_, he could spruce up excellently, and perhaps become even handsome and charming, but it appeared that Snake couldn't care less. Oh, but why, though? Then, if not, would he ever just give her a break? "I can see from the look in your beautiful eyes that that previous display rattled you. Perhaps you feel similarly as I do; you feel outlandish, and you desire some company. Well, here I am. You can feel the heat, the warmth, the _intimacy_ and _chemistry_ between us, don't you? I can feel it!"

"Move it, Snake. I'm really not in the mood for your ridiculous advances." Unimpressed by his messy attempts, Samus simply shoved the grimy man aside. Although, he immediately protested and latched onto her wherever he possibly could, but she flinched and instantly withdrew. Absolutely disgusted by Snake's behavior, she recoiled and effortlessly struck him away with her practiced martial arts, and her threatening foot. "Grow up!"

And she stormed off furiously, with her uttermost dignity and grace completely intact.

It was hardly appealing of Samus to do so, impossibly defiant and tomboyish, but she couldn't bear to just consent submissively to Snake's foul advances and suppress her wrathful distaste. Besides, she had much more important matters to attend studiously to, and he was only getting in the way.

Of course, due to her firm abhorrence, the sloppy man deliberated over the boiling situation, flipping the reasons and questions around in his head. Why did she leave? Did she have someplace to go? Snake now wondered and contemplated, narrowing his eyes as he vigilantly watched her lean body tread fearlessly toward those double doors. She was heading somewhere. Snake knew it, seething dangerously about his failure, his frustrating efforts; then he scowled and grimaced — _it was a perilous caution of hazards, a warning sign_ — but was soon enlightened with one brilliant idea. Those filthy lips quickly warped into a dastardly grin.

On the way to those swiveling double doors, from the slightest corner of her eye Samus rapidly caught a glimpse of Ike, who was hopelessly rattled himself. Perhaps the tousled mercenary was even so rattled he couldn't even recollect himself, or bravely gather the will to respond valiantly to the dwindling jests and taunts he received from the remaining people. His handsome face looked earnestly forlorn and lost.

_Ike, don't lose your head. You can keep your cool, come on._

As the pivoting double doors gradually closed behind her and left a lingering noise, well, Samus certainly felt awfully remorseful for abandoning the stranded mercenary. Then again, she would repeatedly explain to herself that at least Ike was managing well during these drastic conditions much better than Link was — that pitiful Hylian, persecuted, harassed, and victimized by the residents' marauding prowls. This was precisely why, Samus alleged, he deserved the most caring attention, the gentlest consideration. Frail and delicate, Link was especially fragile now, and Samus knew he desperately needed someone trustworthy to consult with, someone kind who wouldn't stupidly badger him and frighten him away.

Prepared and prepped accurately for this, Samus was perfect for the job!

Luckily for Sammy, it wasn't exactly very challenging to spot the dismayed Hylian. With only a couple of steps out of the boisterous cafeteria, she immediately noticed this incoherent mumbling and blubbering. And Samus could definitely perceive it, distinguish the familiar voice — the woeful gasping and gulping muffled behind a particular door. She easily traced it, in which led into the janitorial closet.

_It was Link!_

"Hey, Link, is that you?" Concerned, Samus called out to him in a respectfully quiet voice, approaching the door gingerly with nimble strides. At the measly sound of another conscious presence, the helpless Hylian's wistful murmuring quickly withered away. When Samus humbly touched the knob, hearing its antique squeak beneath her hand, she instantly heard Link gasp frantically, flinch, and retreat deeper into the closet. Guilty, Samus let go, lowering her gracious voice. "I can hear you; you're muttering to yourself. Are you in this broom closet?"

At first there was no response, but eventually, with much hesitance the sheepish Hylian answered. "No."

He croaked that reply out briefly, his voice raspy and particularly hoarse. And then he feverishly returned to his previous blubbering and sniveling. It was painfully evident how Link attempted to contain those somber and mortified emotions himself, modestly gathering his legs and burying his red face in his arms. Samus couldn't actually witness this herself, but she could picture it effortlessly. Remorse and pangs of regret swallowed her whole, she felt excruciatingly heavy.

"Come on, Link, you can't stay in there forever. Even if you did, someone else would definitely find you here. It's not hard. If anything, everyone could probably hear your pathetic blubbering from the other side of the Mansion." Of course, Samus certainly meant well with what she said. After all, she was just bluntly stating the facts. She intended not further harm with her careful words, but doting comfort and relief, or perhaps even some neighborly banter, a genial ice breaker. "Now will you answer me or not? I'm on your side, Link."

Pensively, he sighed. It was perhaps the heaviest, shakiest, and most heart-wrenching sigh that had ever graced Samus's ears. And yet, it was also agonizingly quiet, as if he didn't wish for her to actually catch it.

"Listen, I know what you're probably thinking — oh, Sammy's just here to jest and taunt at me. But that's really not the case. I know you're going through a lot of pressure right now, but don't handle it alone. You should at least have someone help you. Let _me_ help, because I _want_ to help you. I mean, I certainly have no idea as to what reasons or untactful arrangements you've gotten yourself tangled into, but if you open up, know that my only intention is to be your support. That's what friends are for, right? Link?"

For a brief moment, the wistful Hylian was obediently silent, deliberating over his potential decisions. And, as Samus refrained herself from crudely barging in on her delicate friend out of impatience and discourtesy, she was at least put at ease by how he'd finally stopped his mumbling nonetheless.

"I saw what those guys were doing to you, heckling and offending and tormenting you, right?" Intolerant and beseeching, Samus continued as she purposefully seized and grasped her own hands, itching to open the door. "Yeah, well, that was ruthless and incredibly rude. Well, then again, to be honest, I was poking fun at you guys too — but only in the beginning! I mean, your choice of attire today prompts quite a lot of jests from one's mouth, oh, wait, — I'm sorry! Um, I'm here to _help_, not to jest. Please, take me seriously, I won't humiliate you. I'm certain you've had enough of that for one day anyway, right? Come on, we can hide in my room for the moment."

At last, sweet victory was hers, when Link faltered, contemplated, and released yet another hefty sigh. Of course Samus anticipated worryingly for his approval, his permission, as she nervously brushed her thick blonde tresses behind her ears and fretfully swallowed her blistering hopes that clogged in her throat. "Okay, Sammy."

She felt a flood of relief wash over her.

Slowly, gently, and deliberately, Samus cracked the door open _slightly_, afraid he'd instantly scurry away like a startled kitten. Instead, with careful eyes, she beheld the image of withdrawal and embarrassment and solitude. With his exposed limbs clustered about himself in a lonesome huddle, Link was hardly willing or obliging. Once Samus carefully sauntered her way towards him, he reflexively lifted his head of golden strands, those saffron locks gliding lightly around the frame of his cherubic face. Immediately, Samus captured the sight of his glistening cerulean eyes coated by freshly moistened layers, gleaming beneath a lustrous varnish of dampness. Oh, they threatened to breach and rupture the dam of those gorgeous eyes, to stream and cascade down those blazing red cheeks.

Samus didn't comment on his ruffled and disheveled appearance, or that alarming nudity beneath his trademark tunic, instead sucking in a shuddering breath.

"Oh, thank you, Link. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if you didn't comply. I would have been too busy worrying about you." Incredibly pleased, Samus sighed with relief as she gently touched his limp arm, as a gracious implication, an amiable guide, and a cordial escort. She smiled kindheartedly at him, observing those grand pools of aquamarine gaze back in wonder and uncertainty. "Let's hurry on along to my room, okay? It should be safe in there. No one should be loitering around in the halls at this time anyway, with all the tournaments and such. This is usually the Mansion's busiest hour, you know."

Link simply nodded, those tousled blond locks sweeping smoothly along the borders of his flustered expression, like curtains of golden silk marvelously drawn aside to reveal such a beautiful view. In that one fleeting and momentary second, Samus was tempted to actually — oh, what was she _thinking_? Well, frantic, she quickly shook it out of her bustling head full of commotion, blinking rapidly as if to dismiss her promiscuous thoughts.

As the moment died, Samus awkwardly gestured for Link to stand, follow, withstand her swift pace, and maintain his reserved position beside her. And again, the sheepish Hylian sullenly nodded, shadowing her steps reluctantly.

For the most part, Link remained stubbornly silent, as if nothing in that forsaken world would convince him to open up that heavily locked, sealed, protected, and sheltered cage of emotions. At once, Samus envisioned the dilemma in her own imaginative visualization — the disheartened Hylian would faithfully bottle up those downcast emotions until they would eventually accumulate too massively, they would burst right through their glass container! It wasn't very pleasant, to say the least.

Of course, Samus absolutely dreaded such uncomfortable atmospheres, awkward and outlandish. This loitering moment was certainly no exception. So, as if in attempt to ease into some casual dialogue, she chuckled uneasily and glanced repetitively over at Link again and again. "So, I'm guessing the Human Sculpture competition's a no-go, huh?"

Well, there was nothing in that stylishly lofty corridor but them and her empty laughter. Oh, Samus's ultimate strategy to initiate some conversation was horribly catastrophic, instead settling a profound tension of discomfort between them, as if forcing a square cube through a circular hole. _Seriously_, the air of tautness was so awfully dense, Samus could actually feel the concentrated substance — consisting of intensity, uneasiness, and anxiety, — in her own hands, on her own body. She would do absolutely _anything_ to liberate them from this tormenting anguish of awkwardness and disquiet!

In response to Samus and her bizarre thoughts, Link said nothing. The two companions kept walking, quietly listening to their every resounding step upon the carpeted wood floors.

"Oh, it's still too soon, isn't it — sorry about that." She apologized as she swiveled her head towards her companion, who was persistently inaudible. But then suddenly, as if caught completely off guard, Link flinched at something ahead of them, repeatedly fluttering those blue eyes out of sheer discomposure and lack of calmed poise. He couldn't speak now, and he wasn't pretending. This immediately drew Samus's attention as she curiously turned her blonde head, feasting her eyes on the familiar face strolling down the stately hallway.

It was Prince Marth.

Oh, they both definitely caught one another's eyes, there was simply no escaping it. No matter how much they'd rather not encounter each other. Neither of them said anything, — perhaps due to the unavoidable presence of a neutral person, being Samus, or perhaps because of the unresolved disputes and blames that lingered dubiously within the atmosphere between them, — as they walked on with such a cumbersome weight upon their burdened shoulders.

Tense and anxious, Samus glanced at her mute companion, who eagerly avoided any eye contact and quickly lowered his golden head. Apparently, if Link refused to look at that handsome Prince Marth, that also included her, Samus. She felt out of place, outlandish, and very awkward, to say the least. It was the worst feeling ever!

Well, upon observing the Prince's charming expression, they finally passed each other, and Samus could admit how truly repentant and sorry Marth was. There was the most blatant apology in his remorseful face, a fervent wish to offer his rueful condolences. Perhaps, Samus guessed, if she wasn't there to distill, simmer, or even bristle the sweltering tension being the neutral person that she was, Marth would have actually approached the chastened Hylian. Oh, she never realized how much of a hindrance she actually was, thwarting Marth's passage for reconciliation and apology, spoiling the regretful mood in the air — _unless_ that was what Link honestly desired. Perhaps, maybe, the mortified Hylian simply didn't want to discuss with him then, because he wasn't prepared for it.

Oh, what could Samus do to alleviate the tense gravity of the stiff air?

Desperate to return to her respectful room, Samus hastened with a heavy sigh, contemplating over the potential reasons of why such an unsettling tension should be established between Link and Marth. Weren't they close friends, familiar acquaintances? Did some rattling event occur that split them apart? Well, then again, the secluded Hylian planned on isolating himself from any interaction with the other residents, so perhaps that applied to the situation at hand, who knew?

Besides that, though, there was always another topic that repeatedly arose for question — Link's appearance. Why, oh, why wasn't he wearing his regular tights? Their strange absence didn't necessarily bother Samus, rather, they intrigued her more like, but the catastrophic disaster in the cafeteria could've easily been avoided! It was mysterious, utterly suspicious!

Well, as Samus struggled to piece the story together, the initial distance gradually closed and eventually, the two of them wound up at her door. Temporarily startled by this realization, Samus blinked her eyes as her bountiful thoughts quickly evaporated. Meanwhile the mute Hylian casually held himself, hugged softly within the comfort of his own arms, and gazed imploringly at Samus as if to inquire quietly about why they'd suddenly stopped at this particular door. Oh, those gorgeous pools of aquamarine of his were appallingly mesmerizing, Samus noted, foolishly captivated by Link's curiously large eyes.

"Oh, w-well, here we are." With a brutal slap from her mental conscience, Samus finally spoke, glimpsing at Link with uttermost concern rather than charmed fascination. He was still hopelessly silent, but she was compassionate and understanding; the time for truthful explanations would come eventually. Samus swiped her sleek door key from her pocket with graceful nonchalance and unlocked her door with it. "I hope my room is adequate, you know, to meet your high standards. It seems like you're never at ease with me no matter what I do. Well, nevertheless, welcome to my room."

As the wooden door gladly swung open, Samus casually entered her humble abode, but Link, who was helplessly awkward and uncomfortable, had to be hauled inside gently and carefully. It wasn't his fault, though, the nervous Hylian was only self-conscious, afraid, and seemingly fragile because of that grand revelation — that he had immense social insecurities as well as the next guy. Link was only oblivious to those timid insecurities because he'd never been formally introduced to them. Now he felt inexplicably lost, floundering and blundering in uncharted grounds: the complexities of _physical appearances_.

Timid and sheepish, Link shuffled upon entry, stubbornly refusing to speak, or having nothing to say.

Oh, but how humbly clean Samus maintained her room. Everything was fixed and neat, just like the coy Hylian's own arranged room. After all, every time Ike or anyone else came over to visit Link in his tidy dorm, they'd carefully scrutinize his organized things as if it was a white-glove inspection, title him as a "neat freak" and that was that. Recalling that fond memory, Link felt a faint smile grace his pursed lips.

"Yeah, I know, I know, it's a little too clean in here. Everyone badgers me about it all the time, telling me that I don't need to 'prepare for guests' every day fixing up the place." With the gentle click of the door closing softly behind him, the noiseless Hylian watched Samus lumber idly towards her orderly bed and plummet slothfully onto the fixed sheets, wrinkling and crumpling the fabrics beneath her, sinking into the mattress. Long blonde locks pooled around her, Samus leisurely turned her head to face him. "I retort back, of course, and I go straight out and tell them that I prefer the tidiness. It's what I'm accustomed to. Besides, if I wanted to have someone come over, I wouldn't have to arrange a certain time or date, because every day my room is presentable. Well, I mean, at least I'd think so."

Enlightened by their similar tastes in cleanliness, Link didn't fight the contented smirk from adorning his handsome face. Neither did he conceal the uplifting bliss that eased his troubled expression, relieving the strenuous furrow of his brows and brightening his overall character to his regular self. Miraculously, the Hylian permitted his two soft lips, those two pink petals, to finally open — consent for verbal tongue, for words to escape his mouth, even if those gracious words were bashfully quiet.

"No, Sammy, I definitely agree." He said softly, hardly above a whisper.

Upon actually receiving a response, or simply hearing that particular voice courageously speak up at last, Samus immediately sat up. Hastily, she ignored the tousled wrinkles of the bed sheets and disregarded her unkempt hair sprawled messily around her head, gawking straight at him with widened eyes. "Wait, what was that?"

Amused and successfully diverted from his earlier miserable distress, Link happily chuckled and chose to answer Samus clearly and normally.

"I'm a neat freak too."

Honestly, with the comfortably resolved atmosphere, it was pleasant there. Link could actually breathe easy, settling restfully into the nearest chair as they prattled away into amiable conversation. They talked about randomly trivial matters, topics both pointless and meaningless, really, anything that alleviated the current mood. Perhaps a century ago, when that dreadful incident took place in that obnoxious cafeteria, Link's present state of mind quickly sank and hit rock-bottom. But now it hovered, buoyant with genial jests and laughter, floating and soaring like a helium balloon into the nothingness of space. Of course, the keen Hylian sought to raise and lift his meddlesome troubles above, high enough to escape into the void emptiness of the galaxies, for them to drift far, far away — away from him!

With the tolerant Samus, he was finally calm. Oh, but ever-running time didn't spare them, having the daylight quickly evaporate and suddenly descend into the later afternoon.

Samus realized this first, and kindly offered Link lunch in her room, which he gladly accepted. Relishing these fleeting moments, the gratified Hylian truly was relaxed. Samus, with her reassuring appeasement, unwound him, unscrewed the tightened bolts, and put his discomfort at ease. When she mentioned how the adorable Pikachu might possibly come join them, she first inquired Link about it, whether or not his present circumstances could endure any more company in their midst. Oh, the sensitive Hylian certainly didn't decline, but complied and smiled politely. Sympathetic towards him, Samus pulled on a satisfied grin as well, excusing herself properly. Soon enough, promising to be back shortly, she recommended that Link stay put there and left promptly to retrieve their lunches.

As Samus casually departed, Link nodded farewell, smiling warmly.

After all, he was truly grateful to her. Samus certainly wasn't like everyone else, who callously butchered his good name and taunted again and again. Even if she'd playfully teased him in the beginning, her utter benevolence and good morality quelled her mischievous whistles. Now, she was the only one to be kind and understanding enough to generously soothe his resurfacing uncertainties, acting normally as if there was nothing significantly different about him. Samus didn't press him on about his absent garments.

Oh, yes, the blond Hylian was definitely aware of the predictable questions that kept pestering Samus to inquire him about, but she seemed to push the thoughts back and refrained from asking, and that was what made Link happy.

By this time, Samus had already returned with two trays in hand. She and Pikachu nonchalantly strolled in, with Link courteously holding the door open and eagerly greeting them as they promenaded inside. They all grinned lightheartedly and dove straight into cordial conversation, settling on cozy bean bags littered neatly across the floor. The drifting scents of fresh sandwiches and other humble foods instantly wafted around the room, which burst in enlightened bliss and friendly smiles, a welcoming contentment of some sort. It wasn't necessarily all that cheerful or exceptionally jolly in the room, but it was certainly comfortable.

The three caring companions ate lunch together, good-humoredly blithe and merry. From time to time, Link kindly offered some of his rewarding food to Pikachu, who happily accepted his lavish offers with an adorable squeak, nibbling cutely on pieces of bread. And then they would all smile, and everything was remarkably carefree, as if nothing bizarre had ever happened back there in the cafeteria.

Oh, the exclusive Hylian only wished this could last, this oblivious happiness. If only he could freeze time and live delightedly within these joyful frames, untroubled and mirthful. But, that was just an impossible fantasy, and he needed to accept that such a delusion of imaginary rapture couldn't and wouldn't happen, that he was only living in a temporary dream of fleeting happiness. Oh, how Link desperately yearned to capture that fleeing liberty of gladness, cheerful glee, and contentment, meagerly hoping and praying that Samus would never ask about his missing apparel.

Well, the dismayed Hylian was immensely troubled about numerous things. Despite the elated setting he now cherished with grateful pleasure, Link still had plenty of concerns he foolishly buried in an attempt to forget them, like a childish mess brushed under the rug — his worrisome problems couldn't hide there forever. The troubled Hylian definitely had a boisterous commotion in his head, swamped with anxiety, dread, and apprehension. Such as, oh, the excruciating fact that this preposterous bet still extended into tomorrow, or how he would have to answer the countless questions from everyone's blathering lips, how he must handle the spreading rumors and gossips — from Princess Zelda's eloquent mouth, no doubt, — and of course, how he would have to apologize…to Ike.

He'd abandoned him, stupidly enough. Oh, he'd left the bewildered mercenary there to hopelessly fend for himself, when it was entirely Link's fault in the first place. It was his responsibility! If only he never carelessly joined the game, if only he never thoughtlessly dragged Ike into this whole ugly mess, if only, if only he thought about him first!

_Ike—_

Meanwhile, in the bustling cafeteria, before everyone eventually dispersed, there was the compassionate mercenary defending their good names and insisting that the incident was completely accidental. Even Yoshi and Captain Falcon joined him in his dutiful reasoning and justification. The frenzied room was thick with lingering scents and sweat, with rowdy noise and clamor, and with impatient activity and excitement. As the humid skin on Ike's back bolstered severe warmth and moisture, his nervous hands clammy, the intent mercenary was somewhat composed, explaining how Link's appearance was all due to a silly little bet.

Well, half of them listened, and the other half honestly couldn't care less, but nevertheless — Ike was especially anxious. He was undoubtedly worried and upset with himself and everyone else, absolutely overwrought with concern, itching and longing and frustrating — _ugh!_ Ike should have chased after his vulnerable friend, that startled blond Hylian, Link! Seriously, what was _wrong_ with him? Who _cared_ if the entire Smash Mansion vicinity misunderstood them and misinterpreted the whole situation, warping it around into something ridiculous? Link shouldn't have to burden himself with all of this!

How irksome, and tedious, and exasperating! Oh, it was so _infuriating_! Because, well, the tempting Hylian was partly to blame as well!

Why did he ever decide to follow through with that stupid bet? Why didn't he just politely decline? Why didn't he think of the potential consequences? And, and, and _why_ — by the Great Goddess Ashera, — did he have to attract undesirable attention wherever he went? Why did he have to appeal to everyone? Why couldn't he frighten them all away instead of effortlessly reel them in? _Argh!_

Bothered, uptight, and disturbed by how Link's alluring condition seemed to stir up bothersome trouble wherever he went, Ike angrily clenched his teeth. Although, soon enough, his frustrated concern arched his creased brows in the other direction, with such an overwhelming worry crashing over him like an enormous tide. Why, the pining mercenary was so impossibly fretful, he ached. Oh, that writhing and shriveling organ of a heart constantly lurched and hurled itself in unrequited longing. Its obnoxious and relentless pounding was simply exhausting, thrashing and punching and beating against his chest.

_Link, where are you?_

Within the protected comforts of a sheltered room, Link felt perhaps obliged and indebted, or even pathetically unworthy of such generous refuge. As he reluctantly swallowed that hesitant lump in his throat, the doubtful Hylian witnessed Samus casually trash their disposable food trays into the garbage. Sinking softly on her gentle mattress, he willingly let his blue eyes wander, regarding the neatly aligned books sitting comfortably on the bookshelves, discerning the various items in organized arrangements on her desk, and examining how the lights above seemed to illuminate the unblemished room flawlessly. Oh, he was only digressing into random topics, avoiding the obvious tasks at hand, dodging the resurfacing questions, evading the frequent implications.

It was painfully evident that Link was abusing his gracious privilege with Samus. He wanted shelter, she provided it. And though Samus wanted answers, he didn't give them.

Self-conflict plagued Link; he was ailed with skepticism and uncertainty, juggling over his possible decisions.

"_I know you're going through a lot of pressure right now, but don't handle it alone. You should at least have someone help you. Let _me_ help, because I _want_ to help you. I mean, I certainly have no idea as to what reasons or untactful arrangements you've gotten yourself tangled into, but if you open up, know that my only intention is to be your support."_

Well, it certainly was no mistake to open up to her before, when he was miserably helpless in the broom closet. Samus definitely proved to be trustworthy and understanding, shielding the forlorn Hylian from the bombardments of rude comments and callous remarks. Courteous, sympathetic, and kind, she had the patience and consideration to assist him, to help him, to comfort him in his desperate time of need.

"_That's what friends are for, right? Link?"_

Oh, the rueful Hylian felt he was in the reasonable wrong. Remorseful and pensive, Link figured he was unfair and unjust. Didn't Samus at least deserve to know what his meddlesome problems were? She did go through all this difficult trouble, somehow remaining tolerant and sensitive to his shifting emotions. Wistful, the thoughtful Hylian balled his trembling hands fixed firmly on his lap, and ever determinedly devised some fathomable explanation. Ah, with a hefty intake of breath, he finally gathered that humble courage of his, quivering out of flustered uncertainty. Link's frantic nerves didn't stop him though, when at last he explained _everything_: the entire bet, the drastic effects it tolled, the intimidating encounter with Princess Zelda earlier that day, the awkward breakfast, the judgmental stares, the mortifying game of Human Sculpture, the horrific accident on their turn, the dramatic surges of emotion, and well, simply everything else, to cut a long story short.

Overwhelmed, the torrents of words kept heaving and pouring out ruthlessly — at a replenishing and steady pace, always charging at full power, — like the continuous after-tides that come rolling in after the massive waves have diminished.

Link consulted and confessed to Samus absolutely _everything_, informing her and enlightening her with every excruciating detail, in which Samus eagerly and patiently listened. She absorbed every intricate aspect, about the hurling rollercoaster of events that pitched Link into different situations. Although, when the amused Hylian mentioned the bet's reckless consequences, she couldn't help but snort at what _could_ have happened to that frivolous Prince Marth if he'd lost. Now _that_ would have been quite the sight!

For a momentary instant, together, Samus, Link, and Pikachu laughed humorously at such a ridiculous picture — that pompous Prince of Altea, completely and stupidly undressed, galloping down the elegant halls of Smash Mansion. Oh, how much less distressing it could have been if Link had won the bet!

But he had lost it.

Regardless! As the blond Hylian's unending downpour of words gradually dwindled away, the building tension seemed to shatter along with it. Once again, they were comfortably relaxed, in one another's amiable company, loitering in the vast density of the precise truth and Link's faithful trust. Immediately the stiff tautness in the air intensified again, and they were imprisoned within its compressed and thick confines of discomfort — with the only exception of Pikachu, who was simply too adorable and innocent to be affected. Oh, but did this awkwardness change anything? Of course not! Why, in fact, now that the sheepish Hylian chose to finally reveal his secrets, Samus happily broke the ice and advised him. Soon enough, they'd already delved deep into conversation!

"It's just that I-I can't stand the stares people give me! Sometimes they're looks of amusement, contempt, other times of, um, well, — I don't know — _hunger_! It's hard to explain, Sammy, but, well, it really makes me uncomfortable. I don't exactly know how to respond to their gazes." Terribly insecure and hesitant, Link felt way too exposed, his gnawed lips trembling nervously. Only occasionally, he let those gorgeous cerulean eyes flicker quickly at Samus, as if suddenly he was forbidden to make even the briefest of eye contact speaking. "Oh, goodness, Sammy, I-I'm sorry. This must be so strange, I mean, this, such talks are very unusual. I'd never wanted this, — you don't need to force yourself, I'm sorry."

"Don't trouble yourself with thoughts like that, Link. I understand, and it's perfectly okay." Touching him gently on his narrow shoulder in a gesture of compassion and benevolence, Samus carefully seated herself beside the slender Hylian, who seemed utterly rattled and disoriented. Caring, she kindly replied with a sympathetic smile. "It's pointless to fuss and worry about it. I mean, all fussing and worrying does is help fan the flames. You'll only add on to the pressure and stress, and you don't deserve that. After all you've been through so far today, it probably feels like ages already, doesn't it?"

All of a sudden, this little yellow rodent leapt swiftly onto Link's legs, settling contentedly on his lap. As the forlorn Hylian willingly accepted Pikachu's abrupt request, he nodded dolefully at Samus, those silky tresses of golden blond gliding along the flawless contours of his face. Gently stroking Pikachu's striped back, Link could feel the tender warmth and softness of Pikachu's bright fur beneath his fingers.

"I totally understand; I've been there before." Samus smiled fondly, knowingly, as if there was a similarly profound experience from the past. "Not necessarily because of such a ridiculous bet, but because of other reasons."

Curious and astonished, Link quickly perked up in interest.

"But we'll save that for another day." She wistfully proclaimed, and ever disappointed Link immediately slumped back down. Upon his apparently restful lap, Pikachu stirred in the slightest, but didn't utter any more than a few cutely slurred peeps. "You're more concerned about yourself right now anyway, aren't you?"

"Well, I suppose, Sammy, b-but talking about other things takes my mind off of it. I prefer to be more calm and at ease. I mean, I've never felt so uneasy or self-conscious about myself before — I hardly even fear for my life in battle!" Incredulous of his own honest truth, the distressed Hylian cried out, that scattered expression upon his face. With flushed cheeks, the embarrassment swallowed Link whole as many brilliant crimsons and scarlet reds graced his confounded expression, even cherry-red at the very ends of his pointed ears. "How do people control these, these _emotions_? They strain my chest and make it extremely difficult to breathe or simply think properly. Sammy, what is this?"

"Relax, Link, it's only foreign to you because you've never really experienced anything _this_ embarrassing before. You've never encountered a dilemma such as this, right? Not to this extent, have you?" Wise and sensible, Samus interrogated him, her electrifying blue eyes swirling with her doting care and concern. For a measly moment, their vivid aquamarine eyes met and cordially acquainted themselves, though they delivered different vibes — Samus's electric irises displayed sympathy and understanding, while Link's remained stubbornly clouded with uncertainty and hesitation. As the helpless Hylian caressed Pikachu's head with a trembling hand, he gazed down at Pikachu's relaxed face and nodded at Samus pensively. "It's a natural thing, though. Everyone goes through these things sometimes. It's not our faults."

Conquered by reality's mischievous tactics and perhaps even cruel jests, a glimpse of defeat adorned Link's cherubic face. Of course he was raking in Samus's thoughtful words and consolations, but, he simply couldn't help it — why were people ever created with hideous impulses? Such repulsive traits weren't necessary in a living creature, were they? Aside from natural instincts for alarming danger and the like, the blond Hylian saw no reason for them. They compelled people to commit heinous deeds, announce terrible words, and even appear revolting.

"When something piques our interests, we approach. And when something amuses us, we laugh." Samus humbly explained, steering her kindness and compassion towards her overwhelmed companion, who sat contemplatively with wilting shoulders, limp arms, and drooping eyelids. Oh, that pitiful Hylian was a withering blossom, hopelessly shriveling inside and out from his pathetic lack of sun, or well in this case, his pathetic lack of happiness, buoyancy, lightheartedness, optimism. "I'm no psychiatrist. I don't know everything about emotions or the littlest trivial details about feelings and thought processes, but, it all boils down to these things. It's just something beyond our control, Link. One thing might be funny to one person, but it could very well be depressing for another. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I understand, Sammy." Wistful and reflective, Link responded with the captivating flutters of his gentle eyelashes, how softly they kissed the surfaces of his rosy cheeks, his lean hand resting peacefully upon Pikachu's streaked back. "It's just, I don't know, I guess I really hate their senses of humor. They have no idea how this situation sinks in for me. They don't! Why should they torment _me_ about this?"

"Stop worrying about it, Link. It's not worth your concern." To further comfort him, Samus placed her own slender hand on his back, soothing away the blond Hylian's troubles through her friendly kneading and rubbing. She was exceptionally careful not to provoke Link's blistering emotions, speaking quietly and calmly, and especially after what spilled from her humdrum mouth. "All this really is, Link, is a bunch of idiots excited about their exposure to, um, well, some inviting skin, that's all."

_What?_

"You know, I don't really expose myself for everyone to see — not that you're doing this on purpose, I'm just throwing this out there — and neither do the Princesses, so it's only reasonable for them to flock to you." Quick to reestablish the mighty structure that was the flustered Hylian's protective barriers of all emotion, Samus yammered and sputtered to help him recover from his dazed stupor. "It's not your fault, Link. Don't let it get to your head, okay? Relax. I'm sure you'll forget about this soon enough, as well as everyone else. It'll be okay."

With her adequate comforts, Link released yet another one of those remarkably lofty sighs, one immense exhale of exhaustion and fatigue. He certainly didn't know anymore, what to feel or what to think about his current situation, let alone how to respond.

Perhaps to put the distraught Hylian's mind at ease through further distraction, Samus eagerly pulled out some traditional board games: including _Monopoly_, _Clue_, _Scrabble_, and classic _Battleship_. The various boxes scuffled and shuffled with noise, casually grazing one another — cardboard against cardboard. At first, skepticism and astonishment graced Link's handsome face as Samus effortlessly closed the cabinets. The cabinet door shut hastily, fastening with a satisfactory _click_.

As Samus nonchalantly strolled back to their pleasant circle on the carpeted floor, she hummed some tune amusedly, her lengthy tail of blonde hair gracefully swaying behind her head. Oh, _well_, simply put, her simplistic plan was to some extent certainly successful. For the most part, once Pikachu awoke, the three amiable companions thoroughly enjoyed themselves with each individual game. Samus effectively distracted her anxious friend, cleverly changing the subject matter and original task at hand, achieving her initial goal. Well, it wasn't as if they would be brutally disciplined for not attending brawls that day; Samus had previously contacted the Smash Council to politely excuse their bothersome absences that day. Hence, they were left to occupy themselves with these trifling games.

"Wait, what do you mean, you excused our absences? How did you do that?"

"Easy. All I did was a little bargaining with the authorities, that's all." She explained with a sneaky grin, informally plopping down after returning _Clue_ to her organized cabinet. Now it was the game of diction and puzzling language, — _Scrabble_, — that occupied her slender hands, as she generously distributed the game pieces between them. "I was fetching our lunches at the time and found Pikachu, who was the one that pointed it out, actually. If it weren't for Pikachu, this fabulous day-off probably would've been forced to dismiss _hours_ ago. You know how uptight the authorities are about things like this; they would call us slackers and penalize us for 'ignoring our duties as Brawlers.' It's ridiculous, really."

"Oh, wow! I never would have thought." Tremendously grateful for the adorable yellow rodent, Link both gladly and affectionately petted Pikachu on the head, coddling and spoiling that cute little thing with his sweet smile and loving kisses. "Thank you so much, Pikachu! I honestly don't know what I would do if I was required to brawl."

In response, Pikachu happily smiled back, squealing with joyful endearment as Link smothered the adorable yellow rodent with esteemed adoration. "Pika, pika!"

Eventually, the delightfully comfortable evening was rolling along, the entertaining board games entirely finished and completed, with Link reigning as victorious winner of every amusing play — although he certainly _did_ feel as though Samus deliberately lost each game on purpose. Regardless, the content Hylian figured it must be time to depart, no matter how desperately he wished to stay. With due gratefulness to Samus, the three considerate friends exchanged their cordial smiles, greetings, and farewells. Reluctant and impossibly hesitant, Link slowly waved goodbye to his welcoming companions, Samus and Pikachu, leisurely telling them how he would retire to his own room now. They kindly offered to accompany him, but the blond Hylian politely declined, shaking his head of golden strands.

"It's perfectly alright. I can go on my own. You've both been so kind to me, and I truly appreciate it. I mean, really, I wish I could just stay here for the night…you know?"

There was a tone of pensive longing within their individual voices, as if the afternoon's gradual descent into the evening was hardly enough time to completely relieve them of their stress. Oh, even when Samus chuckled, her tickled laughter seemed particularly empty and doubtful. Concerned furrows strained her creased forehead, anxious and worried for the petit Hylian. "You know we'd love to have you, Link, but you know the rules. 'No residents are permitted to share rooms for any reason or occasion; all violators of this rule are severely punished,' remember? Even Pikachu isn't allowed to sleep over."

Yet another hefty sigh escaped Link's quivering lips, which were obviously bitten and gnawed on from some nervous apprehension, plump and red on the vulnerable interiors. "I know, I know, Sammy. It's very unfortunate."

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" Samus felt a regretful smile upon her repentant face, solemnly knowing she could do nothing else for him. Meanwhile, exceptionally sad and sorrowful, Pikachu stubbornly clung to one of the woeful Hylian's legs, bright yellow paws clasped around his leather boot, forlornly mewling and whining and squealing. Oh, Samus eventually and remorsefully tore the adorable little thing from Link's unsteady leg, which now felt painfully lighter without the warm and tender weight of such a cute yellow rodent.

Link replied with a faint smile as he dolefully nodded, aware of it as well — that this was the end of the line for Samus and Pikachu, their supportive counseling and purposeful entertainment. At that moment, the aggrieved Hylian felt his restrained chest tighten, his aching heart two sizes too large and the ribcage that contained it two sizes too small. "Good night, guys. I'll be going now."

"Good night, Link. Sleep well."

"Thanks." Oh, how he could barely speak, observing the woeful and downcast expressions that adorned each of their disheartened faces. With the ultimate decision to set off _now_, Link earnestly struggled to swallow this suppressing lump in his throat as his loath feet sluggishly began to stride off on their own. "I'll probably need it."

At that, Samus chuckled sadly, watching the independent Hylian tread farther and farther away, until his slender body was simply no longer visible, and then slowly shut her door.

And, with that, it was all done. They were suddenly gone, absent, — entirely vanished like some cheap magic act, — and instantly it felt as though they were incredible distances apart from one another. Oh, the first stifling emotion that consumed the throbbing Hylian was this painful yearning to return loyally to that door, to once again be completely submerged in their blissful amusements, to be so absorbed and immersed in that oblivious joy that every sore truth would just slip from his bustling mind.

Instead Link's feet claimed the primary initiative, grudgingly dragging across the Mansion's elegant floor, tedious and dreary from his miserable despair. Despite this, other wearisome thoughts constantly nagged and badgered the weary Hylian, memories just earlier that day, oh, it was absolutely exhausting.

"_Link!"_

"_I'm absolutely certain there are other residents who'll respond far less desirably than I have; just remember to be wary and careful, alright? Not everyone will be as forgiving as I have been, Link. You've probably gathered enough attention as it is, and that isn't necessarily always something to cherish. Heed these words carefully — not everyone has good intentions."_

"_No, your legs and arms and neck and junk — they're especially naked! Doesn't that bother you?"_

"_Hey, where are you going, pretty-legs?"_

"_You know, I don't really expose myself for everyone to see — not that you're doing this on purpose, I'm just throwing this out there — and neither do the Princesses, so it's only reasonable for them to flock to you."_

Troubled, he ambled onward, forcefully draining the several thoughts that simply refused to leave him alone, his meandering footsteps a faltering _pat_, _pat_, _pat_ upon the extravagant ground. Once again, Link was distressed and uneasy, sighing and purposely driving the pestering voices away.

The blond Hylian walked on, heavy with a resurfaced tension about him.

Oh, somehow, there was still that foreboding feeling of dread and anxiety that nibbled at his fearful consciousness, ravenously feasting off of his terror. But why was it feeding there, for what reason, for what purpose? Regardless of how delightfully enlightened and pleased Link became through Samus's generous efforts, one step outside of her endearing room and immediately this peculiar feeling of unease crawled up his exposed skin. Alarmed and startled, his entire body reacted with a nervous shudder; those hilly bumps, those instant goosebumps scattered themselves upon the smooth complexion of his arms.

Well, nevertheless, the blond Hylian shrugged it off as he progressed towards his own individual room, dismissing the intimidating thought. Besides, he was often teased for "blowing things out of proportion," and perhaps that was precisely what he was doing now. Link was being unreasonably paranoid, gazing at a simple corridor, but then twisting it around with his imagination, shifting it into one towering hallway where shadows seeped through every narrowest nook and cranny. Oh, but they weren't just _shadows_, but terrifying _silhouettes_, who stalked and followed and inspected Link's every slightest move. It was chilling.

That was when Link finally realized he was actually alone, exposed, _vulnerable_, — there, by himself.

_There's no reason to panic, Link._ Feverish and tense, he repeatedly reassured himself with this and lined himself cautiously along the wall. _There's nothing there._

As the horrified Hylian struggled to convince himself that nothing really was there, he advanced in antsy strides, afraid of how the menacing distance suddenly appeared to stretch further and further on. It was mysterious and strange and absolutely frightening. Not only that, but with every slightest glimpse down at the tattered maroon carpet on the floor, Link's blue eyes were immediately drawn to his own faltering shadow, which constantly bothered him. There was this growing suspicion that another shadow would soon join it — a daunting shadow that threatened, endangered, and toyed with him callously, inviting actual presences to catch him off guard and breathe heavily down his neck — _oh!_

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?"

In an instant, recognizing that familiarly brusque voice, Link's blood ran cold and he froze completely. Startled and reluctant to face his new companion, the anxious Hylian responded with a jolt, stuttering and continually fluttering those gorgeous aquamarine eyes, as if one measly blink could make him vanish. "Oh, h-hello there, Snake."

"What could you possibly be doing this late at night, _hm_, Link?" Fluently implying inappropriate ideas, Snake spoke with a deep hum as he approached the flustered Hylian much too eagerly, dangerously close. Clammy and apprehensive, Link could feel this disturbingly excited heat radiate from the husky man's body, as well as feel himself quickly begin to perspire. There was unnerved sweat clinging to the features of his graceless body, which was currently rigid and stiff with this uncomfortable fear. He couldn't move, he couldn't withdraw or recoil. Even as Snake's formidable build loomed ominously over Link, with those hazy eyes examining him impatiently, that heavy voice puffing low gasps at his ear, — he was paralyzed.

_It must have been Captain Falcon._

"I-I'm just heading to my room, that's all."

Guilty, he was guilty — Captain Falcon _must_ have been behind spilling the "beans" — knowing the man's blathering and prattling character, he would eagerly spread the word, striking up pointless conversations with the garrulous residents. Well, regardless, such dramatic news of Link's present discomfort would've quickly reached everyone's ears at one point, even without Captain Falcon's yammering help. Perhaps the tragic incident during the practice in the cafeteria fascinated this enticed Snake, who knew. All that Link was perfectly aware of at the moment was how difficult it was to gulp down such a stubborn lump rising in his throat, and how the troubling heat between them considerably intensified.

"Oh, is that it? You look a little disheveled, though, Link. Why, you're even sweating! Are you nervous about something, perhaps?" Each and every sentence was pronounced slowly and fluidly and huskily, faint whispers brushing against his creamy collarbone. Snake's impassioned breaths danced on his flesh, causing it to blaze in sheepish reds. "Maybe I should see your person, inspect you and all; it's not good to be so warm and nervous around such a _close_ friend. You might be sick."

"T-that's not it. I'm just tired and I want to get in bed as soon as possible." He couldn't possibly face him. It was perhaps one of the last things he considered even remotely suitable at that moment; it fashioned a possibility to provoke Snake's fervent prodding. Fretful and uneasy, Link suffered enough discomposure, especially with the aggressive pounding of his fierce heart. Oh, the anxious Hylian's body reacted with such tense responses — how absolutely unpleasant. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be going now."

Without a moment's notice or even the slightest alarm, Snake's broad arm lashed out and slammed firmly at the innocent wall, imprisoning the panicked Hylian behind those toned muscles. Then, the stout man quickly leaned in and grazed those hideously chapped lips against Link's trembling figure, descending almost ferociously and viciously onto his smooth skin. "Oh, but there's no rush, is there?"

"Um, w-wait, Snake, I just want to go to bed. I-I'm exhausted." Each word came out feebly, with hardly a breath to make even the briefest noise. Oh, Link's quivering pleas appeared to fall on ignorantly deaf ears, when that vulgar Snake seemed not to listen, or simply ignored him. Instead, the gruff man permitted his impatient hands to explore that uncharted territory, as those hot fingers abruptly and brutally caressed the bewildered Hylian's limp arms. Obscene and indecent, they violated his privacy, stroking Link's endearing collarbone, forearms, elbows, and his blushing cheeks. Touch after touch, that lewd Snake proceeded on lustfully, crudely rubbing his thumb upon Link's remarkably soft bottom lip. It trembled beneath his shameless bodily contact, obediently silent, barely rousing a commotion, hardly making a peep, only compliantly hushed whispers. "S-Snake, wait, s-_stop_ _it_!"

Goodness, the pleasing Hylian's delightful flesh was as smooth as the gossips rumored them to be! Those slender legs were presumably gentle and warm and tender beneath Snake's thick hands, which evidently contrasted them — even highlighting how absolutely charming Link's appealing skin was in comparison to his own mannishly bruised flesh. That incredible warmth and softness, — much like a woman's, which he was at an immense loss for, — only further triggered his testosterone urges and impulses, alluring him through their lovely touches. Link even radiated a delicious scent of a kind of sheepish vanilla, all natural yet sweet. "But I can help you, Link. I'm only here to help you. You say you want to get _in bed_, right?"

_No, that's not what I was saying. No — no, no, this can't be happening._

"You're mistaken, I-I'm retiring to my own room, you see — _oh_, Goddesses, no, _wait_, stop!" Certainly just after the first touch, he was already blazing scarlet, but now, he was immersed in embarrassedly crimson reds. Mortified, afraid, and absolutely horrified, Link could only whimper and protest weakly; after all of the chaos that disastrous day inflicted upon him, the troubled Hylian couldn't handle much else honestly, let alone such a bewildering assault. "Please, please, let me go."

Soon enough, those damned globules of his humid emotions reemerged upon his gorgeous eyes, glazing those cerulean orbs beneath several coatings of pure moisture. Oh, Link could definitely feel them as he resisted against their commending deluge of sorrow and melancholy. Immense and overwhelming, the concentrated heat between them mingled, their heavy breaths joining together amid their hefty puffing and panting. It was too much. Oh, it was devastating, upsetting, shattering the peaceful atmosphere altogether.

Of course — of course having the day end on a good note would be too good to be true. It would be a miracle to survive one day under this excruciating penalty, this ridiculously stupid bet. But, was it too much to ask for? Was it too much to ask for a fortunate salvation that would graciously rescue him from his ultimate despair? Was it too much to ask for him to simply be _happy_, despite the severe circumstances that ailed him now?

As that dastardly Snake rocked provocatively against the flushed Hylian, advancing with his immodest pestering, Link struggled to contain the distraught emotions. He blushed profusely, opposing the stout man's endless touches and caresses and _molests_. Oh, the heat, the very hotness, the agonizing temperature skyrocketed. It spiraled and accelerated steeply, escalating much too high, threatening to penetrate, to burst, to ejaculate with undesired lust.

"Wait, wait, — um, please l-let go of me, Snake. You shouldn't be, _ah_, w-wait!" With futile belligerence, Link pigheadedly refused to accept inferiority. Stubborn albeit dreadfully embarrassed, the flustered Hylian replied with absolute hostility. Thrashing and shoving angrily at the husky man, Link sharply countered and snapped and retorted helplessly. "Stop it! Stop, no, _don't_!"

Touch, touch, there was another touch!

Disregarding the despairing Hylian's desperate attempts to liberate himself, Snake shushed him as he let his hands roam free. They wandered horrendously, making repulsive bodily contact upon every available surface. Of course, _if only_ Link had his wonderful undergarments, robed and garbed comfortably, perhaps the dire intensity of the situation wouldn't be hysterically overwhelming, but, that didn't matter now.

There_ — don't touch me there!_

Oh, it was a grave violation of privacy! Snake was absolutely remorseless, and his rough hands even more so, drifting aimlessly from place to place upon his vulnerable body. Well, certainly every sensual touch sent unsettling chills down his wavering spine, but once things began to unfold, lingering on a budding jeopardy — _no_! Potential danger, risk, and peril awaited; those filthy hands prodded at the secured hems of his tunic, which retained its composition. Without the firmly knotted ties along the sides of his green apparel, that trademark tunic would _fall right off_! Stammering and panicking, Link instantly recoiled with a flustered gasp.

"N-no, don't! S-stop it! Stop, _please_!" By this time, he wasn't merely objecting, but he also declined, chided, and rejected feverishly to comply. With whatever power he possessed then, he protested against Snake's revolting wishes and shoved persistently again and again. Oh, it was absolutely useless! He dealt no harm. Unarmed and unguarded, the dismayed Hylian was henceforth defenseless and exposed — how could he defend himself at this rate? Well, what was that devious Snake plotting?

Snake eagerly bore a hideous grin and permitted excited chortles to escape it.

"Snake, _stop it_! S-stop! Let me go — ah, _no_! Stop it, stop, n-now! _Please_!"

No!

And yet, little did they know that — regardless of their seemingly distant location, far from domestic and public civilization, — there were still _other residents_ who resided within the finely embroidered confines of Smash Mansion. After all, such an elegantly polished manor could accommodate a hefty populace, mainly due to the fact that it was a place of magic and enchanted sophistication; why, there could even be room for _more_ if considered necessary! But, of course, one thing was absolutely sure.

They were definitely _not_ alone in that vastly extravagant building.

For one, there was that neighborly mercenary, the benevolent Ike, currently searching for his troubled friend. It was perfectly reasonable. Ike was a good friend who was genuinely worried about Link, in fear that this was all solely his own fault, that perhaps he was to blame entirely for the day's ill-fated events. Well, logically, the fretful mercenary reckoned he owed Link a sincere apology. Even if the ruffled Hylian was completely at fault, how could he possibly gather the courage to politely ask for forgiveness when he could barely even regain his composure in everyone's presence? Oh, such a harassed expression shouldn't have to adorn Link's handsome face, Ike presumed. His golden brows shouldn't have to furrow urgently over his creaseless forehead. No quivering frown should grace his soft pink lips.

As the compassionate mercenary pitched some possible ideas in his rattled head, upon how to confront that disoriented Link, he could actually feel his mop-like head of wild indigo hair seething and bustling with countless thoughts. Such as, firstly, where was the disheveled Hylian? Or, perhaps how was that unstable mood of his at the moment? What could he be doing now, or was he alone, was he hopelessly lonely? Did he want to be alone? Was he avoiding everyone on purpose? Was he avoiding _him_, Ike?

_Does he hate me?_

Did the faltering Hylian never want to see Ike ever again? Were they never to contact one another anymore? Was he no longer assigned to be Link's exclusive number one speed dial? Was he still even in his contact list?

Despairing, this anguished thought process continued on like this, miserable, sullen, repeating over and over again so Ike could only drown and flounder in his apprehensive depression. It was hardly uplifting to his disheartened attitude, well, that was certain. Oh, if only some irrelevant matters would steer his attention in another direction. He couldn't bear to have such a bothersome anxiety resting heavily upon his slumped shoulders. Well, that was to say, of course, until the brooding mercenary then encountered something peculiar, in which diverted Ike from his pensive moping, — there was an indistinct chatter.

It was beyond the intrigued mercenary, but nonetheless piqued his interest. There were two quarreling voices that bickered heatedly in the midst of their own sour hisses, their bitter whispers, as if speaking too loudly was strictly forbidden due to its forsaken ability to attract undesirable attention. And yet, that belief was rather contradictory for them, because their lousy attempt to be quiet and discreet was exactly what reeled Ike towards them.

_Wait a second._

Oddly enough, or perhaps coincidentally, the concerned mercenary realized how unmistakably close the hazy bickering was to his original destination: _Link's room_. How suspicious this was, and how mysterious, simply egging him on with consistent wonder, pondering and marveling.

Naturally overwrought with his bubbling curiosity, Ike approached that hushed exchange of words to further investigate the situation. One heavy leather boot after the other, _thud_, _thud_, _thud_, — and the gallant mercenary scampered on over there with a mounting fretfulness and nervously brushed his indigo tresses back with a clammy hand. Hastily, Ike squinted and discovered one obscured glimpse of individuals, and he could see them and he could immediately distinguish their odd positions and all of a sudden it was his violent heart going _thump_, _thump_, _thump_ and he could find where their limbs were sprawled out and what they touched and what expressions they wore and what they were doing and — _oh_ _goodness_!

It was him.

"Link!"

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_Look Forward to the Next Chapter!_

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**Side Notes:**

**-** Well, this took forever to write. Congratulations to those of you who read all of it, beloved readers.

**-** It seems to me that I'm growing quite fond of the "oh-no-Link" cliffhanger. I know this is only the second chapter with such an ending, but as I wrote this chapter, I completed the simple drafting of the plot and couldn't come up with anything but that ending. I did consider changing it; it wasn't the final draft anyhow, but, I never really did, as you can see. The "Link!" has been up there for a while, and so I deliberated and procrastinated and figured and eventually decided that cliffhanger would suffice.

**-** You must be wondering what in the world was with me and the distinction between "blond" and "blonde"! Well, as you all may know, I'm learning French as another language, and to describe someone as either _blond_ or _blonde_, it depended entirely on whether or not they were a boy or girl. It's a masculine-feminine thing between the nouns and adjectives. The adjectives almost always have to agree with the noun, if not always. Well, once I've accustomed myself to that grammatical rule, I never knew which _blond(e)_ to use when writing in English! When I only used _blond_, the females were particularly more boyish. And when I only used _blonde_, the males were particularly more girlish! I must apologize if I've confused any of you, my beloved readers, but my indecisiveness on the matter of hair has overwhelmed me. I mean, I made the same exact distinction between "brunet" and "brunette"! It's true!

**-** I was playing Brawl with my younger brother the other day, — procrastinating as usual, as in pushing back the time I told myself I'd begin to write this chapter or complete my homework, — and he was Snake, I was Link, you see. And you guys know how Snake grabs people from behind, muffles them, and lays them on the floor, right? Yeah, well, my little brother was so fascinated by that, he wouldn't stop tormenting Link with it! It was frustrating, and kinda disturbing, actually, but nonetheless, it was also very amusing. Although, after that, it got kind of cumbersome because all he'd do was patronize everyone with that move.

**-** I promise I'll _try_ to continue this story within the next two-three weeks! If anything, this story should update once every two weeks, but if worse comes to worst, it will update over a month later. Then again, it all really depends on the amount of work I have to accomplish for school first.

**-** _Reviews?_ I'd love to hear your opinions! I have no intention to request too much of you, my beloved readers, but allow me to overcome my mistakes with your constructive criticism, supporting me with your kindest words of advice and assistance.


	5. Day 1 Evening — Croyez-moi

"The Bet He Lost"

By animefan752

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**Caution:** Well, here there certainly _is_ _something_ to warn you about, my beloved readers, because there is most definitely _yaoi_, otherwise known as the intimacy or relationship between two males, in this chapter as well as doubtful thinking. There will be some inappropriate scenes, involving mostly touching and molesting. I hope you are prepared for that!

**Disclaimer:** Super Smash Bros does not belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo and company, respectively.

**Side Note:** This chapter's title says "believe me" _en français_, so _pardonnez-moi_ if you didn't understand it! You're aware there are online translators scattered everywhere across this vast internet, right?

**A/N:** Hello, my beloved readers! How are you all? Yes, I am perfectly aware of how pitifully late this chapter has been posted, but, well, I don't know! You should already be aware of my pathetic laziness, procrastination, and over all, _demotivation_! It's the cursed and forsaken _Writer's Block_, I tell you! The _Writer's Block_!

_Anyhow_ — please, enjoy yourselves and indulge on this new chapter, my beloved readers! I might be hideously late, _but_ it's _here_, isn't it? _Yow!_ Alright, read fervently, everyone!

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The first thing he saw — that immoral hand was roaming inside that disheveled tunic, through the open slits on the sides. Well, yes, the astounded mercenary easily distinguished their identities, his quick recognition similar to a sixth sense, as if he was perhaps meant to encounter this spectacle. With narrowing eyes, the next thing Ike captured was the flustered appearance of a certain Hylian, those blond tresses framing that cherry-red face, which was knotted into an expression of helplessness and mortification.

Goodness gracious! Now was the worst possible time! After feeling left behind and miserably abandoned by Link, yet concerned for him all the same, Ike was definitely not in any mood to get angry or upset — especially _now_, of all times! Nothing but pain, worry, and unpleasant emotions filled him. In fact, the contemplative mercenary was still deliberating over his own feelings; although he knew how exasperated he was, Ike simply didn't understand why he was even that exasperated. Well, an obvious answer would be because of Snake's brazen actions to molest his dearest friend, _of course_, but he was also a little downcast and disheartened by Link's desertion.

Miffed, the mercenary hadn't seen him since that _incident_ in the cafeteria; not that handsome face, not that trademark pointed hat, not that charming blond hair, not that familiar olive-green tunic, not that deliciously creamy skin! And now, upon seeing him once again, Ike's fuming troubles and anxieties all boiled into one frustrated anger — _argh!_

Oh, the fleeting Hylian was _avoiding_ him, wasn't he?

And _ugh_ — it was _Snake_, that dastardly man, a good-for-nothing stalker, a damned lurker, an intruder of privacy! Why was he even like this? Oh, the seething mercenary could just see their littlest movements, even if they themselves were oblivious to him. Ike witnessed _enough_, how the slightest touches made Link scarlet red with embarrassment, how the lustful strokes in those sensitive areas made Link throw his head back and caused several strands of his blond hair to sweep gracefully across his face, and _oh_, good Goddess!

Assumedly, Snake's unashamed hands _probably_ caressed the Hylian's flesh at this exact moment, touching and touching his shuddering skin, cloaked beneath his tunic. This stroking there _probably_ triggered Link's most embarrassing noises and expressions, in which triggered bursts of flustered reds to spread across his body. _Ohh_, this was all beyond aggravating!

Absolutely furious, enraged by those wandering hands, — they touched inappropriately, caressing that smooth skin, that soft flesh that _probably_ trembled beneath them, — Ike didn't hesitate to storm off in their direction. Anyone could hear the mercenary's footsteps from the deepest and farthest corners of Smash Mansion, how they thumped loudly upon the carpeted floor, grumbling and uttering his every agitated thought. In an instant, Ike angrily tore and ripped through the wind, shredding towards them as quickly as possible, with his impulsive mess of rage that kept his driven fervor blazing.

Sensing the intimidating presence of another, Snake suddenly parted from his harassed victim, Link, who heaved with gulps of rattled terror and struggled to hold himself up, trembling with fret.

Somewhat alarmed by this arrival, Snake could barely swallow his anxieties with an uneasy gulp. Oh, what lingered in the space between Snake and the unkempt Hylian was a pungent musk of immodesty, further inflicting them with restlessness, worried they would be severely punished, worried about what people would think, worried about anything and everything.

At the sight of that puffing mercenary, wheezing angrily with every winded breath, they couldn't tell what the reason was for such fearsome huffs — from the grudging task of his sprint or from his infuriated wrath. Either way, it frightened both Snake and the exposed Hylian.

But Ike was on _his_ side, right? Shouldn't Link be relieved?

Well, certainly they were perhaps the closest of friends, or at least the most concerned and thoughtful, but it was precisely because of their constant worrying that the flushed Hylian was afraid. A "concerned Ike" didn't immediately mean the fretful mercenary would simply sit there in one proper seat and worry his heart out. It was definitely one-hundred percent possible — and even more common, — that Ike was violent due to his concern. His actions usually came first before his thoughts. Or, well, his most upsetting thoughts usually jumbled up into chaos, which probably confused the poor guy into thinking violence and action was always the answer.

The nervous Hylian only desperately hoped and prayed and wished Ike wouldn't throw a fit, considering how his kaleidoscopic personality tended to shift from good cop to bad cop whenever his friends were in a pinch. Even his current presence now was _terrifying_! Why, Link almost felt _sorry_ for Snake! Well at least now without that disturbing bodily contact, Link shakily gathered himself, his quivering hands gradually fixing his tousled tunic. Oh, even some of the bizarre red heat drained from his blushing figure; the same hotness that boiled his blood, startled his nerves, and caused his petrified limbs to quake anxiously.

Until, of course, due to perhaps an ill-timed curiosity to assess the situation, Link suddenly flashed his eyes in their direction, those timid pools of cerulean fluttering rapidly as his eyelashes repeatedly brushed against the surface of his cheeks. But instead, his pretty little eyes met Ike's own, — even _mingling_ with those deep navy blues, really, — although their meeting, those silent words, that inaudible language, was enchantingly scary and unsettling nonetheless. Why, the result of their soundless conversation was quite unexpected, and rather shrewd, that a revelation burst within the contents of the blond Hylian's mind.

Deep within those stunning navy blue eyes, there was that very same cluttered disorder of anger Link feared most. Not only that, _but_ — oh, Goddesses, Ike wasn't just upset with Snake.

This abrupt sense of danger and insecurity, hurling this painful and sore _thing_ in Link's constricted chest, thwarted any surfacing reliefs.

Fearless and bold, Ike dared to stomp even closer, shoving this petrified Snake aside without another thought. The stiff man stumbled backwards, as if lost and confounded with everything at that instant, a scattered expression upon his grimy face, the noisy prattling of his faltering feet apparent in the air. Of course, at first glance, the fearsome mercenary was clearly infuriated with Snake, which explained the location that Ike first directed his ravenous anger, but upon catching a hasty glimpse at the bewildered Hylian, his blistering emotions careened back around and were fixed on _him_ instead.

Oh, now all of a sudden, Link felt uneasy, apprehensive, sweltering beneath this unwelcome spotlight, this undesirable _hot seat_ that the scorching mercenary became so dreadfully interested in. The worst part was how _someone_ had to be in it, and with Snake disqualified from the potential contenders, only the nervous Hylian remained a candidate. Oh, Link was the least bit obliged, his writhing and thrashing heart restlessly pummeling against his fragile ribcage, which the fretful Hylian honestly felt could shatter at any given moment.

_Ike—_

Disliking this troubling situation, — this unsettling tension that suddenly caked the air with a tautness and severity, — Snake crept away. It was definitely wise and clever of him, what with that formidable rigidity thickening the atmosphere. Oh, in mere moments, Snake meandered and cunningly snuck away, slipping away into the sneaky shadows, distant from trouble and arrest.

Ike simply let him get away.

_Something was wrong._ Something was _horribly_ wrong.

Why did he do that?

Oh, the brusque man, that sneaky molester, wasn't the only one who felt the overwhelming tension, this daunting firmness that lingered ominously in the air. Link could feel it, and he certainly didn't like it. It was hardly comfortable, how every slightest breeze raised all unnerved hair, how each littlest breath shuddered with anxiety, how the tiniest glance at one another sent fearful chills down his spine, _how his closest friend was the primary cause of this discomfort_. Wasn't he to blame?

"Ike." As his quivering lips mouthed the name but barely uttered a sound, perhaps out of nowhere, Link's writhing heart began to race. He could feel it within himself, that persistent heart of his, which abruptly propelled itself forward, violently hurtling itself against Link's delicate ribcage and even threatening to deafen him with its ferociously rapid pace. Oh, the flustered blond only meagerly hoped with much faith in Ike's ignorance that the mercenary was incapable of eavesdropping, or even remotely overhearing the dramatic pace of his heart. Pounding, walloping, hammering loudly against Link's eardrums, it screamed each of his doubts, qualms, and uncertainties in accelerating beats.

Surprisingly, and perhaps fortunately, the angry mercenary heard nothing, or, well, at least responded indifferently to the noise. Instead he advanced, continuing his intimidating approach, and stepped forward until there was hardly any space between them. Of course Ike permitted enough room to breathe, but those trembling breaths could barely linger between them; there was simply no given area to linger in. Not only that, but it was much, _much_ hotter within the firm mercenary's trap in comparison to Snake's previous one. In fact, Link was boiling and scorching amidst this foreboding _heat_ that imprisoned him.

Goodness, he couldn't speak with him like _this_, the baffled Hylian decided. And he was in absolutely no condition to, barely garbed in his disheveled tunic that gradually slid off his flushed body, if it weren't for him stubbornly holding it in place. In addition, Link was still recovering from Snake's disturbing assault, flustered and disoriented. Every nagging and badgering thought in his flooded head was against the idea of speaking with this heaving mercenary, whose narrowed eyes were definitely scary as they scrutinized and examined the blond Hylian.

Startled in fright, Link pressed himself against the solid wall and sidled uneasily for support, attempting to slide away leaning against it. He yearned desperately for escape; there was too much of an unresolved tension between them. They were simply unprepared for this, completely disjointed from their casual friendliness, and Ike appeared to be seemingly _possessed_, poisoned by a frightening temper. _Something was wrong._

Well, it was certainly true that all day, the two of them had an immense loss of contact for one another, which was extremely unusual. They were suddenly deprived of each other's company, perhaps a little hysterical with the profound sense of loneliness, and still embarrassed about the incident in the cafeteria. Oh, they had been so close in proximity, so impossibly near each other, _way_ too intimate for their comfort zones. Did the isolation strike viciously at Ike? Was it their unfamiliar separation that stripped him of his cordial friendliness? Was it Link's fault from the beginning?

As the distressed Hylian tried to escape from this disquieting torment, with one hand gripped onto his ruffled tunic and the other pressed against the wall behind him, he felt the elegant texture of the refined wallpaper beneath his trembling fingers, which trailed along his presumed route of escape. Of course, in an instant, Link's pitiful efforts were spoiled by Ike, who wouldn't allow it. In one fluid motion, the mercenary seized his wrist.

Despite the natural warmth that radiated from Ike, the baffled Hylian conceived his usually comforting heat as an irritating nuisance, a hindrance, an unfathomable misuse of the mercenary's temperature! Oh, whenever wintertime rolled around, sometimes the marvelous wonders of the heating system in Smash Mansion were simply insufficient, and their clever friends would all flock to Ike, who was considered to be the human heater. Now that "soothing" warmth was absolutely undesirable at the moment, very much _un_wanted. Link felt as though the sweltering heat alone could strangle him, as well as the deadly gaze that came from the mercenary's penetrating eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?" It was an ominous voice, a menacing tone, seemingly foreign to Link's ears. It was as if another man entirely had dressed himself in Ike's own body. Well if that seemed to be the case, then where in Farore's _name_ was the _real_ Ike? This false mercenary was beyond himself, his aggressive rage untamed, delivering vibes of only ferocity and careless violence. His face was definitely handsome, but the personality that accompanied that charming façade was the direct opposite, swelling with gruesome and heinous thoughts.

Honestly, the dismayed Hylian simply didn't know how to answer. Quivering uncontrollably, Link was confused and perplexed about, well, _everything_ at the moment. He truly believed this Ike was an imposter, but their false disguise was so convincing, he just didn't know. This mercenary's musky scent was robust and spicy, as it normally would be for _Ike_, and his face the exact same as well as the misused body heat, but the hostile voice and fierce personality that accompanied his model qualities was way off character.

Blinking as he diligently avoided eye contact, Link heaved fretfully with every shaking breath, terrified and apprehensive and restless. It was difficult to simply _speak_, with the troublesome lump that ascended in his suppressed throat. "I-I'm not avoiding you, Ike, I'm just—"

"You're embarrassed."

_What?_ Bewildered and hopelessly confused, Link was increasingly quiet, digesting that statement like a hard pill to swallow. It was absolutely true, though, one-hundred percent sincere verity. Honestly, that declaration was perhaps the foundation in which everything else built upon: the loneliness, the fear, the insecurities, the frantic distress, the guilt and unsettling remorse. And eventually that lofty construction of troubles became quite the establishment, towering over any mirthful feelings, crushing the very means of positivity and optimism. He _was_ embarrassed, very much, in fact.

"N-no, I—"

Apparently, or according to the ominous glint in the mercenary's mystic eyes, Ike could no longer contain his cumbersome frustration. Narrowing those dark orbs into menacing slits, the upset mercenary sharply tightened his grip on Link's trembling wrist as he dauntingly leaned forward in his intimidated face. "Yes, you are! You're embarrassed! Don't deny it."

Beyond afraid, the shivering Hylian could only respond by shuddering breaths, those frightened blue eyes blinking fearfully at Ike. Oh, they were silently noisy, screaming with anticipation and terror, swirling and spinning with fretful aquamarines and cerulean blues. Mute but garish nonetheless, perhaps this panic even fed the raging flames of irritation within the mercenary, who remained absolutely infuriated by how Link's nervous eyes fluttered again and again, batting innocently and kissing the gentle surface of his cheeks. _Ugh_, was that all they could do? Those pretty little blues, always feigning innocence, helpless and bright, could never tell a faulted lie. Well, _bullshit!_

Was he scared? Was he afraid? Ike was too engrossed in his continuous anger, too far into his distant path of outraged wrath, to consider the pitiful Hylian's feelings. In fact, his caring sympathy, thoughtful kindness, and generous compassion felt _miles_ away at the moment — they'd never salvage the mercenary from his depths of vicious rage.

"Because of that damn bet you lost, you're more open and vulnerable; everyone can see you. They can see your body, your legs, arms, that flustered expression on your face." Seemingly venting out his emotions, Ike grimaced regretfully, clenching his grinded teeth. There was a repentant and apologetic flicker that flashed in his eyes for the slightest moment, just a fleeting instant, but it was present nevertheless. Oh, it was definitely certain; the disordered mercenary was confusing his feelings for one another, perplexed and exasperated. Concern became anger, and regret became frustration, as he spoke against Link's face, his beckoning lips brushing against his warm cheek. "Face it. You'll have to endure humiliation like that."

As Ike's breaths danced cynically upon his trembling skin, the flustered Hylian realized he couldn't even form one coherent sentence without stuttering and stumbling pathetically over his own words. Feeling the puzzled mercenary's grasps loosen quietly, Link felt his heart pound fiercely against his chest. "I-Ike, _what_—"

"Don't you see? You're _tempting_ them! That body of yours, it's just much too alluring. It might sound a little peculiar and odd, but I'm serious. I can't stop myself from stealing the slightest glimpses at you, just like everyone else. You're so tantalizing, like the last slice of cake on the display. Oh, Goddess, you know very well how everyone fights for that last and final piece; it's always the most appetizing and delicious."

Oh, for some strange reason, or perhaps for no particular reason whatsoever, — this truthful confession that just happened to spill out the bizarre actuality of things in the spur of the moment, — their leaping hearts hurdled and hammered in unison, in symphonic timing. What was this? Exhilarating, their soft skin brushed perhaps even _affectionately_ against one another, and they were even closer than they were in the bustling cafeteria, which was now probably crawling with noisy midnight snackers. Oh, yes, Link could definitely feel this infatuating heat, which was rather overwhelming, actually. Not only that, but the ferocious gaze within Ike's intimidating dark orbs of blue, they shifted into a comforting keenness as well! Kaleidoscopic as always, those charming navy beauties now regarded the blond Hylian with endearment and sweetening apology.

Oddly enough, despite the previous tensions of ferocity and anger, there was this fresh and enlightening buoyancy that surfaced between them. It was exceptionally light and delicate, gently draining them of their anxious nerves. Ike spoke up once more. "Honestly, I can't help but look and stare and admire your bare skin. _You're_ on display now all of a sudden, and I-I've never seen you like this before. None of us have. And I-I don't know how to react. You're a really dear friend of mine, and I don't want to jeopardize our relationship, y-you know? But I can't help myself. I, oh, I'm just torn, I'm conflicted."

Sheepish and uncomfortable in a sense of timidity, Link was completely petrified, not knowing whether or not to embrace this amorous warmth between them or withdraw backwards, not that he possibly could with the compact wall pressed against his spine. Maybe the clever Hylian could simply ignore this tender fondness? Perhaps he could even twist the peculiar situation around as he would like, proceed to use it to his own devious advantage and finally escape?

He blinked and blinked, feeling somehow guilty for considering his available routes for freedom, as if this strenuous experience was a _privilege_, for Din's sake! No way! Of course the bashful Hylian felt grateful and tender with the sudden change of atmosphere, but their sprinting hearts and Ike's adoring attitude didn't change the past! Oh, selfishly, Link could only dwell broodingly on the past rather than the wishful present, — or perhaps, rather than that, _he_ was the one who was now hopelessly bewildered and lost? Was that how it was? It seemed reasonable.

And it was certainly true! The baffled Hylian confused one gracious emotion for another, accidentally jumbling his delicate feelings around. Although his one hand was perfectly capable of freeing himself, it remained stubbornly limp at his side. Why was that? Obviously, with uttermost effort, Link could have avoided this troubling position _a while ago_. And yet, he chose not to.

Wistful and reflective, Link contemplated, pursing his lips in deliberation. Hopeful, the mercenary gazed at his pondering companion with handsome flattery, desirously observing the way the charming Hylian pressed his pink lips together. They were fawningly luscious, Ike supposed, as well as both succulent and sugary, how pleasantly moist they were. He wore such an appealing face, with that adorable expression of deep thought, framed effortlessly by his blond tresses that gave the impression of silky strands of gold.

How? How could no one ever think about how soft Link's skin must be? Was it prohibited, was this a forbidden fruit? He must be too sweet, dangerously fatal and poisonous to the touch.

Oh, but the interested mercenary couldn't resist temptation. With impulsive urges, his blood simmered and boiled in impatience, his own sweltering heat spreading throughout his excited body like a thirsty wildfire. Tremors continuously shook his broad build. Compelled to feel and touch, Ike was a pitiful victim to his lustful greed, eagerly craving and longing for some bodily contact between himself and his mesmerizing Hylian companion. The feverish mercenary was hot with coveting hunger, perspiring at an alarming rate, further enticed and seduced by Link's every littlest attractive motion, — surrendering to temptation.

It was too much. It was _painful_, even, being able to observe silently but never more than that. If one was devoted enough, they certainly deserved more than one measly sense to grace their beloved, right? One sense out of five was not enough, was it? They should definitely be able to smell their graceful fragrance, to hear their distinct voice, to taste their honeyed lips, and _oh_, to _touch_ their warm and inviting flesh that was simply irresistible. That was how Ike most sincerely felt, as he finally released his hostile grip on the Hylian's wrist.

Before permitting Link to even attempt to seize the moment and fully comprehend the shift in gears, upon his flawless collarbone, there were suddenly some gentle yet chilling caresses.

Most unexpected indeed, the Hylian recoiled like a startled animal with bitter instincts, feeling rather violated. It was hardly a comforting feeling, let alone knowing what the cause was! What was Ike _doing_? Why did the heated mercenary's hands roam shamelessly, brushing against his limbs — upon the gentle surface of his skin, even the distinct bend of his nimble elbows, the crevices and soft dips upon his tender collarbone, — what was the impossible reason for such immodest actions? Every slightest touch raised apprehensive thoughts and hairs and goosebumps; Link couldn't move.

"See, you're so soft. Your skin is unbelievably smooth and warm." Now Ike's daunting hands trailed along the fretful Hylian's tingling side, where Snake had wandered previously, tauntingly slipping in and out of the provocative slit that cut finely through the margins of his renowned tunic. "It feels good, doesn't it? It feels good to touch, like this."

Teasingly, the lustful mercenary continued like this, as if it was nothing but pure mischief, as if his actions were perfectly reasonable, as if this shouldn't impact Link negatively at all because it "felt good." Suddenly Ike's hand roamed into uncharted territory, beneath the tunic, where Snake had barely gone. It was just pleasing beyond belief; Ike's hands touched not only his gracious waistline, but Link's sensitive stomach area, his back, and his chest. But what shocked the flustered Hylian the most was _how_ Ike went about touching these places.

He was gentle, yes, but with bad intentions. It was absolutely dreadful! Sensual, Ike trailed the spine of his flawless back, sending chills down his spine. Not only that, but the erotic mercenary dared to go even further and rubbed his thumb against Link's chest, which caused his entire body to burst into flaming and blazing reds. What a mischievous delinquent Ike was to provoke him, to mock him, to play with his body roguishly however he'd like, fondling naughtily with his crimson nipples, one by one. But it didn't end there, horrendously enough. This hormonal and sexual mercenary wasn't simply _teasing_ Link, he wasn't just butting heads, he wasn't merely pushing his buttons for _fun_ — there really were some ulterior motives, some lustful intentions, behind these actions!

"I-Ike, what are you…doing?" Without expecting an answer, and without receiving one either, the ruffled Hylian's question soon melted into powerless mewling and whimpering. No matter how hard Link tried, he simply couldn't help himself feeling absolutely bewildered and lost, how his every futile attempt at speech dwindled into embarrassing moans, how his excited toes curled out of this tingling sensation.

"I'm touching you. I'm making you feel good. Isn't that obvious enough?" Speaking deliberately with this husky voice, Ike grinned daringly, as if he was fluently experienced in sexual relations and demonstrated his expertise through his advances. Haughtily indulging in the delicious expression Link wore, the smug mercenary wore his own mask of nonchalance, and arrogantly he _smirked_. "Should I go further?"

"N-no, no more…please don't — stop! _Ah_, no, please!" With this disheveled appearance, half-dressed and delightfully messy, the trembling Hylian almost collapsed beneath Ike's touch. Unable to make proper eye contact, or simply incapable of even _looking_ at his ravenous friend, Link closed his glistening eyes, feeling the rivulets of bitter water cling onto his damp eyelashes. Beads of sour tears hugged the corners of his sealed eyes, glimmering upon his fatigued face that appeared to be permanently stained in red. "I-Ike, _please_, don't!"

Disregarding the feeble Hylian's weak protests, Ike's hands roamed into dangerous areas below the navel, as if he would really go _there_, as if he would seriously cross that line, that drawn _boundary_ between measly cravings or full-throttle lust. Oh, why was he doing this? _What_ was he even doing? All the flustered Hylian could even collect of his feverish thoughts was whether or not this was even presumably _real_! Perhaps he was just hallucinating, dreaming inappropriately, or just imagining it all! This was too mind-boggling, too unimaginable to accept as reality. Ike would never do something like _this_. Oh, he was simply too kind and thoughtful and _caring_ to even consider committing himself to something so shameless!

Cowering and whimpering helplessly, Link's objections went by unnoticed by the mercenary, who began to use both hands — _oh_, as if one hand wasn't enough! Now there they both were, wandering and drifting leisurely downward, along his quivering waistline to his trembling upper thighs and eventually landing on — a certain private body part.

His blood ran cold, every vital organ dropping, plummeting, and sinking to the deepest pits of his hollow body.

Petrified, it felt as though his entire figure was crafted out of pure lead and completely frozen over in ice, when that one careless hand suddenly began to stroke him over and over again. And the other hand, oh, it ventured aimlessly, and caressed other shuddering parts of his body. Now out of nowhere, Link could no longer think straight, it was as if a cord had been cut, suspending his thought process. Everything was buzzing, swarming with motion and activity. All the flustered Hylian could decipher out of that moment was this peculiar feeling, a blended fusion of pleasure, anxiety, and betrayal. Meanwhile the impatient mercenary continued on, repeatedly sliding his cold hand back and forth, up and down, over and over again.

"I've always wanted this, Link." As the heated mercenary gladly closed the distance between them, leaning forward provocatively, he breathed with composure. Ike's dense wisps of air even danced on the Hylian's shivering flesh, as if they were invisible hands of their own that smoothly and chillingly swept across his unnerved skin. Real close in proximity, — and without the slightest consideration of their beloved personal space, — Ike barely whispered, "I've always wanted to touch you like this."

Well, as much as Link would've liked to prevent his humiliating reactions, he simply couldn't avoid the subconscious moans that escaped through his pursed lips. Regardless of his vain attempts to nibble and gnaw frantically on his bottom lip, these disgraceful noises still managed to make it out, breathless and pathetic. Oh, how he wished the sensual mercenary didn't recognize his doleful panting and sighing as a sign of permission. Quivering out of fear and chagrin, Link could no longer struggle. He was conflicted, opposed yet unopposed. Ike was perhaps his closest friend, and yet, right now, he was his most despised enemy for traitorously deceiving him. What was there to say? What was he supposed to _do_?

"You're too tempting, Link, did you know that? Damn, this is amazing." On and on again, up and down, back and forth, the keen mercenary plowed onward, stubbornly unyielding and urging and drawing them closer. Hotter and hotter, the blistering temperature between them skyrocketed, as their crushing body heat mingled ardently. Oh, now that they were far, _far_ across the boundary of naïve innocence and mere companionship, they were tainted, spoiled, — _dirty_! "Blush, moan, make some noise for me. Don't look away. Just look at me. I like seeing you like this."

Despite the circumstances, this foul and shameful situation they were currently in, Ike eagerly licked his lips, brushing his thumb across Link's stiffening erection. It was beyond mortifying, beyond anything the trembling Hylian could even begin to describe, as Ike ignorantly pressed his breathy lips against his bare collarbone — _oh!_

At once, the sensual mercenary could distinguish a honeyed fragrance, distinct and quite attractive. How absolutely sweet, syrupy, and _sugary_ this hapless figure was before him! Such a gracious aroma, saccharine and pleasant, enveloped Link even during such a guilty time. Why, perhaps this gentle sweetness even compelled Ike to kick it up a notch, — this feeling of power and dominance to taint such tender softness, — breathing heavily, consenting his mouth to beset any available flesh, suddenly picking up the pace, raiding forceful kisses, and making absolutely certain to account for all exposed skin.

_What was happening?_

Frightened by Ike's intimidating demeanor, which was similar to Snake's own, Link cowered helplessly. Of course they were already _far_ beyond the point in which they could simply go back, retrace their steps, and forget this ever happened, so _what was there to do?_

Only miserable skirmish, confusion, and fretfulness remained within him, gradually consuming the blond Hylian, who could hardly even feel himself there. As his own body deceived him, surrendering completely to Ike's touch, Link unintentionally went limp and felt impassioned lips meet his skin. Within seconds his unprotected neck, his naked jawline, and his uncovered shoulders all became victims to the persistent mercenary's bombardment of kisses. Oh, those lustful pecks, moist and warm, just _pelted_ at his blemished flesh! At times they were wet and sloppy, but nonetheless always progressed forward. It was _overwhelming_, to say the least.

But, by this point, Link surely felt nothing but anxious dread, unease, and fear. It was horribly wrong to just submit to the mercenary's crude pursuits, but there was just no helping it anymore. He felt hopeless.

_Why was this happening?_

Perhaps out of mere curiosity, or desperately pleading for freedom one last time, Link blearily raised his head and revealed those clouded cerulean eyes, which were glazed, glossy beneath layers upon layers of moist wetness. Glistening, those pools of aquamarine appeared especially deep and vibrant, beseeching and imploring and beckoning for one thing and one thing only — _an answer._ Although for a brief moment or two, he couldn't exactly catch Ike's fleeting eye, but soon enough, they'd firmly locked gazes.

Surprisingly enough, there was this intense glare of greedy dominance and control within Ike's bustling navy blues. It was absolutely unusual, how furiously rampant and _dark_ they insisted on being, instead of their regular kindheartedness. It was as if the feverish mercenary was overcome by something, poisoned with an evil, possessed by a deadly sin. And yet, regardless, Link could still see Ike somewhere in there, the _original_ mercenary somewhere in there, troubled and angry, spitefully venting out his frustrations in the wrong way. Of course, there never truly was a "right" way to vent out anger, but surely assaulting a close friend wasn't necessarily "right" either.

_Ike, — please be yourself again._

There was a gracious understanding between their meeting eyes, a soundless language that spoke much louder than words, as the vicious ferocity within Ike's navy blues soon vanished. In its place became a concerned shock, or perhaps a paralysis of absolute terror, after finally realizing what deeds have been done. Slowly, like a startled animal, the horrified mercenary withdrew from the inappropriate areas that he previously explored and reeled backward. A scattered expression of fright and dread adorned Ike's face as he stared and stared in absolute awe.

_What did I do?_

An awkward tension and silence immediately filled the vacancy between them, those agonizing emotions they both felt surfacing discomfortingly. Oh, their traumatized stillness was absolutely _painful_, as if they were brutally struck with this understanding they never truly recognized before. Brooding, they slowly regained themselves and their shattered composures, as they blinked helplessly at one another, blushing profusely.

What else could they do? What could _Ike_ do? How could he possibly patch this dire situation? It seemed so unlikely, so impossible, and just so _farfetched_ to salvage their damaged relationship from before. Oh, what could have compelled this occurrence anyway? Why did the regretful mercenary ever do this? Honestly, what was Ike even _thinking_?

Desperately wanting to compromise with his beloved friend, those pained eyes gazed apologetically at the petit Hylian, who appeared to be distressfully torn between his feelings of anguish and tolerance. Oh, remorseful for everything and devotedly willing to burden any weight on his own shoulders, the regretful mercenary carefully stretched out his hand — but before he could get any closer, Link frantically evaded his touch. And then, troubled and flustered, he looked away and stubbornly avoided eye contact, unable to face Ike after all he did.

_I'm sorry, Link, I didn't know what I was thinking—_

It was an insanely uncomfortable feeling, when the blond Hylian simply refused to even _face_ him, those gorgeous tresses sweeping gently across his cherry-red face. How Ike yearned and longed excruciatingly to simply _help_ Link clean himself up at least! There he was, quivering uncontrollably, and then gradually hoisting himself up and tremblingly fixing his disheveled attire, which was tousled and rumpled and slipping off of his tarnished skin if he didn't hold it in place. It hurt just to watch.

_Link—_

Weakly, quietly, and perhaps almost inaudibly, Link spoke barely over a whisper.

_Please, let me explain, I was just—_

"Goodnight, Ike."

And at that exact moment, the blond Hylian quickly scampered away, to finally escape the torment and pestering harassments of the other residents, to finally retreat inside his own room, to finally retire to his beloved bed, _to finally escape the staggered mercenary_.

Ike, definitely repentant of absolutely everything he did, mourned and regretted his decisions. He felt it was all foolish, mistaken, and irrationally unwise. It was undeniably _stupid_! It was even worse than that foul and immodest man, Snake! Oh, just earlier that very same morning, the concerned mercenary could recall the events perfectly, even the most insignificant ones, how the two of them had been in pleasantly good terms with one another, speaking and joking heartily. Even happily, they had exchanged friendly smiles, buoyant conversations, and affectionate gazes.

How did it all go awry?

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_Look Forward to the Next Chapter!_

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**Side Notes:**

**-** Well, this took forever to write. Congratulations to those of you who read all of it, beloved readers.

**-** I died writing this, I'm sorry. I was about to type it in — that forsaken word that takes it a step further out of my comfort zone, you know, _that_ word, that word that revolves around males only, they use it often, perhaps even every single day, — but then I was a hopeless coward and bowed out!

**-** Well, it has been quite a while once again! I'm terribly sorry, my beloved readers!

**-** At this point, I can only apologize. Goodness gracious, not only has my writing been atrocious to read (I finally reread everything,) because of such long-winded length, formal diction, and the abuse of adjectives and adverbs, but I'm dragging and stretching the plot on longer than it should really be! It's perfectly understandable of you all to be intimidated by me; I'm pretty unapproachable even when I try to be more welcoming towards others. But rest assured — I am always open to your opinions! In fact, I encourage them!

**-** _Reviews?_ I'd love to hear your opinions! I have no intention to request too much of you, my beloved readers, but please allow me to overcome my mistakes with your constructive criticism, supporting me with your kindest words of advice and assistance.


	6. Day 1 Night — Je suis désolé

"The Bet He Lost"

By animefan752

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**Caution:** There's nothing too dreadful to warn you about, my beloved readers, but there is some _yaoi_, otherwise known as the lovable intimacy or relationship between two males, in this chapter as well as indefinite humiliation. Besides that, there's that foul language you guys always have to look forward to! Haha, so exciting!

**Disclaimer:** Super Smash Bros does not belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo and company, respectively.

**Side Note:** The title means "I'm sorry" _en français_, okay? _D'accord?_ Thanks much! _Merci beaucoup!_

**A/N:** I'm so excited to finally be able to publish this chapter! I've been especially antsy, since after all, I love the feeling of accomplishment. It's very fulfilling.

Enjoy, my beloved readers, and devour this chapter as you please! Happy reading!

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Panting, heaving, and struggling powerlessly to compose himself, the flustered Hylian collapsed heavily against his closed door, causing a loud thud to resonate in the room and accompany his disheartened gasps. Heavy with discomfort, he immediately sank to the floor, feeling a twinge of ache in his tightened chest, which confined his pained heart. Link felt as though that poor lump was abandoned, left alone to shrivel up miserably, and yet pummeling and thumping stubbornly against his frail ribcage, to no avail.

Flooded with his many distressed emotions, the Hylian felt devastated and hopelessly trapped, despite the safety of his own room. Insecurities overwhelmed him, prompting fears and weaknesses to surface, pitiful flaws he had never encountered before. After all, Link was known famously for his courage and unquenchable bravado. And yet, _now_ — look at him! He was a blubbering fool, _a pathetic wimp_, trembling and dolefully gathering his limbs into his arms. It was as if he lost himself, that perhaps his brave and dauntless character was all just a façade, a charade, _a lie_. Link was not gallant, not daring, not valiant, but instead _cowardly_. It was true, wasn't it? He ran away. He was frightened.

Link was afraid.

Coated beneath a sheet of tears, bitter hopelessness was all that could even be read of his sorrowful eyes, damp and forlorn. In fact, Link felt he was at the very peak of despair, the brink of melancholy, when his heart violently lurched itself upward and lodged itself into his throat. It was difficult to breathe properly with that sore lump, exhausting his shortness of breath and wearying his entire body.

Well, on the bright side, it was all over. The woeful Hylian was finally secure, protected, and _untouchable_ within the privacy of his own room.

_Then why was he still uneasy?_

Suddenly, an abrupt recollection flickered across the back of his head. There it was — a picture, a mere glimpse of that apologetic glint in Ike's enticing eyes, seemingly innocent and pure and regretfully sorry. Disoriented by that flashback, Link jumped with a sharp intake of breath, quivering and blinking rapidly.

It was the very last thing Link happened to catch sight of — those repentant eyes of guilt and shame, in which he had captured and grasped and perhaps forever remembered, — it was firmly planted in that bustling head of his, constantly pestering him regardless of all the other bothersome thoughts. Oh, but what was he supposed to think of it? Was he perhaps _obliged_ by those apologetic eyes to just forgive and forget what happened? Was he _obligated_ to pardon that sexual assault? There was no way, not in the great Goddess' names, that he could just let this all slide! He simply could _not_ excuse those chilling touches, those intimidating rubs, those unsettling strokes!

How could he?

Oh, what a haunting memory, a lasting wound, this all was to Link and his virtuous morals. As of now, his tainted skin tingled with the sense of intrusion, recognizing how filthy, spoiled, and _dirty_ he was now. Shuddering miserably against cold surfaces, the shattered Hylian felt limp, utterly weak and unstable. In fact, his arms and legs felt numb. Link could hardly feel his limbs, unable to lift himself and carry his weight. Everything was just ridiculously heavy with the unforgettable memories, the horrifying tension, _and those sad eyes_.

Anxious and fretful, the blond Hylian was conflicted, absolutely torn about the current state of affairs. He wasn't necessarily too geared up about who exactly was to blame for all of this, just how to go about fixing and patching everything back together, that was the primary issue. How could Link even stand to look anyone in the eye anymore? Dazed from the fatigue and raw soreness he felt, the downcast Hylian choked as he felt his pulsing heart throb.

_Ike_, that back-stabbing bastard of a mercenary, whose gentle kindheartedness appeared to fail him at the time, bewildered Link the most. He couldn't even think straight with that traitorous Ike in mind, how he callously twisted his feelings around, sensually mistreated him, and carelessly demolished whatever trust Link had left in him, abusing his privileges as close friends. Weren't they friends? Friends wouldn't do that to each other, would they? T-then what compelled Ike to such shameless actions? Why did he do that? Why would he do that to him?

Fleeting images of each suggestive caress struck at the petrified Hylian, triggering this fear to overcome him — about how this and that happened scandalously, how here and there, sinful areas were sexually violated and too eagerly _touched_. Link felt menacing chills fire down his spine. Oh, how humiliating, how absolutely mortifying! What was he supposed to _do_? What was there to do?

Why did that happen anyway? Was it sexual frustration? Was it a warped fantasy, perhaps? Confused anger swallowed whatever tolerance was left in the mercenary, was that it?

_Was there even an answer?_

Once again, this agonizing pain pressed at his chest, restricting any available room for his heart to punch and hurtle against. It hurt, of course, seemingly crushing his organs and suppressing his thinned breaths, as his debatable thoughts sent his head spinning. Not only that, but his trembling body was drenched in cold sweat, soaking the hapless Hylian in anguished woe and draining whatever positivity remained in him.

It was such a depressing feeling, this hopelessness and fear and anxiety. It was as if he was lingering in a stage beyond self-pity, beyond dried tears, where he was perpetually lost in his lack of confidence.

Traumatized by his embarrassment and confusion, Link gradually hoisted himself off of the floor, shaking uncontrollably. In an attempt to distract himself, dismiss his present troubles, and simply clear his head, he slowly prepared for bed. Long-awaited slumber would relieve the troubled Hylian of his meddlesome concerns, wouldn't it? Tranquil rest would make Link forget, for peaceful sleep was always a solution, wasn't it? At least, the brooding Hylian hoped so, as he wistfully dragged his fatigued body across the room, a tired mask gracing his face. Pensive, his feet met cold wooden floors.

For a moment, Link's tactic worked marvelously, when he pondered mindlessly over his choice of attire. He was allowed to wear his pajamas, wasn't he? The bet didn't say otherwise, did it?

_Knock, knock_ — instantly the panicked Hylian jumped out of unease, feeling his frantic heart leap and dive aggressively into the next century with its relentless pounding and hammering. This frightened alarm overwhelmed him, countless doubts and suspicions throwing Link into a startled frenzy. Just the mere thought of stumbling upon another living being spurred regrettable thoughts of the past, of those fervent touches, those dreadful caresses.

"W-who is it?" It was barely audible, perhaps even just a figment of his imagination; he couldn't speak, let alone breathe regularly. Dizzy with the profound sense of terror, Link struggled to calm his restless nerves and swallow his discomfort.

_Pull yourself together, Link!_ He angrily scolded himself, reprimanding his pathetic inability to function normally. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn't as though yet another affair of disgraceful humiliation would take place, would it? Besides, the apprehensive Hylian knew better than to dwell pitifully on the past, on such appalling occurrences.

Blatantly reluctant, Link regained himself and hesitantly approached his door, trembling feverishly. No matter how many times he vehemently reassured himself there was no reason to be intimidated or afraid, the timid Hylian still faltered and wavered, nervously clasping the door handle with extreme caution. As the many beads of sweat and bitter fear dotted the features of Link's tense body, eventually he gathered the pluck to open that door.

Well, well, well, if it wasn't the pretentious Altean Prince.

"Link." Sighing quietly with relief, perhaps, Marth could tell the poor Hylian was overprotective and defensive. With one glance, the concerned Prince of Altea could distinguish how those deep cerulean eyes were immersed in a deluge of mortification and lost dignity, swirling with wariness and hurt. Link didn't even dare to fully open the door between them, only a distrustful crack.

Deliberate and unbelievably upset about the various turns of events, Link simply couldn't put the words together, not even a humble greeting sufficed. Within him distressed emotions cried out and screamed that he must retaliate, to furiously strike back at that handsome face, which actually gave an impression of remorse and apology rather than the usual arrogance. Come to think of it, what brought Marth here this late at night anyway?

Sourly inspecting this uninvited guest, the blond Hylian concealed himself behind the door. Ruffled and tousled with uneasiness, Link retorted back at Marth with as much hostility and boastfulness as he could muster. "I can assure you I'm still lacking my undergarments. You didn't have to burden yourself with this task and come to check yourself. B-but if you're just here to mock me, I'm really not in the mood."

"No, no, I'm not here as an enemy. I simply want to talk to you." Unnaturally chivalrous, the Altean Prince gazed at Link with empathy. One glimpse at that charming face told him of Marth's intentions, which were certainly well-mannered and thoughtful. After all, he chose not to snobbishly butt heads, not to teasingly poke his toes across the drawn line, and not to haughtily show off. Instead, this honorable Prince kindly offered his condolences. "I mean, if you truly believe it's the wrong time, or if I'm the last person you want to see, I understand. It's reasonable of you not to trust me."

Why was he acting this way? Marth, the pompous and conceited Prince of Altea, almost looked modest and _humble_. It was unbelievably strange, primarily because Marth was never too considerate or generous, brimming with his bloated self-confidence. In fact, he pretty much drowned himself in his own swollen superiority complex, believing he always belonged at the very top. Of course, logically, this caught Link off guard, feeling somewhat foolish for assuming Marth was only there to torment him.

"Excuse my sudden appearance, Link, I merely wanted to apologize. After everything that's happened today, honestly, I cannot begin to pardon myself. It's just that, well, you might not believe me. I fear you'll even despise me forever." Although it seemed too bizarre and outlandish of Marth to ask for forgiveness, his reserved apologies proved the trustworthiness of his sincerity. It was intriguing, how this handsome Prince could disregard his conceited nature in order to formally express his regret. "Oh, even if this does fall on deaf ears, please have faith in me when I say I am genuinely sorry."

At least he attempted to come to terms and ensure reconciliation with him, bringing upon the both of them this appeasing tone of endearment. It was a soothing ambience, to say the least, bolstering and consoling the severe tautness of their anxious moods. And although Marth would have preferred it if the quiet Hylian responded in some shape or form, he still felt accomplished in his deed. Besides, right now Link seemed particularly ill at ease, as if he was gratefully indebted to the Altean Prince for apologizing, timidly furrowing his brows and appearing especially petit and bashful. Marth felt his heart skip a beat.

"That's alright, Link, don't push yourself. You don't even have to invite me inside. I'm just grateful you took the time to listen to me." With a charming smile, this grieving simper of remorse and regret, Marth spoke graciously as he implied of his departure. Gallantly turning on his heel with the uttermost poise, the royal Prince took a step in the other direction.

"Wait." A small voice squeaked, beckoning for Marth's undivided attention. "You…can come in."

Link would willingly accept such a barbaric and cruel enemy like him into his private territory? That was absolutely ridiculous! Oh, Marth must have just been imagining the little voice, patiently lingering there for only a moment longer. "Don't force yourself, Link, I simply—"

"W-well, you're already here, so I figured you might as well." The blond Hylian barked back with a hint of shyness. At that likeable response, Marth soon faced him out of piqued interest.

_Goodness gracious!_ Clouded with this bashful timidity, Link's eyes glistened with a peculiar emotion. Oh, even the dignified Marth couldn't begin to comprehend that excruciating look within those gorgeous pools of aquamarine, which were submerged in this downpour of desperate need, longing and yearning for some form of uplifting comfort and friendliness. They were glazed over with mesmerizing sadness, and at once the Altean Prince honestly didn't know how to respond; it was as if his absence alone would abandon this hapless blond and desert him to an agonized misery.

"Well, I suppose a few minutes inside won't hurt." Marth declared casually, amused by how this secretly delighted the lonesome Hylian, who brightened with a coy tenderness.

Hiding quietly behind the door, Link mumbled almost incoherently. "Um, I still have to change into my pajamas — that's okay, right?"

"Oh, yes, definitely! Don't let me patronize you. That preposterous bet shouldn't dictate everything, I mean, it's just a bet." Marth replied, shooting an understanding gaze in his direction, despite being unable to discern his full appearance; Link was just a bleary shadow from where he stood. Regardless, the noble Prince made absolutely certain to provide the timid Hylian with his cherished personal space, strolling inside courteously.

"Umm, okay then, d-don't mind me." Obviously uncomfortable, Link stammered and paused awkwardly, nibbling anxiously on his bruised lip.

Once the well-behaved Prince settled contentedly on a chair, the sheepish Hylian deliberately closed the door with a soft _click_ before reeling himself impatiently to his bureau, failing to disregard Marth's curious eyes. Oddly enough, it felt comforting to have this pretentious Prince as company, but at the same time bizarrely daunting, as if this was a probing interrogation. Oh, he instantly regretted ever inviting Marth into his room. Although the charming Prince abolished the feeling of self-pitying loneliness from before, he established a new discomfort in its place.

Uptight and neurotic, Link felt his panicked heart race, which flailed and thrashed wildly against his chest, threatening to burst through his delicate ribcage. His fingers trembled restlessly against his disheveled attire.

Gradually undoing the strings fastened messily along the sides of his tunic, Link could feel the frosted chill setting in on his infiltrated skin, which was blemished and stained in a much more sensual way. Scarlet freckles littered his quivering shoulders, and there were a few blotches of crimson upon his collarbone. Of course, being unable to directly spot these prevailing marks, the coy Hylian remained oblivious to these flushed patches, unlike Marth, who was definitely intrigued by these inappropriate markings and promptly focused his attention upon those peculiar spots.

_What happened to you?_

Little by little, that pleasant skin was exposed, as Link bashfully permitted his tunic to effortlessly slide off of his timid figure, eventually revealing his back. It was fascinating, to say the least, how smooth that flesh appeared to be, seemingly kissed by the sun. And yet, overwrought with worry, the blond Hylian seemed so self-conscious, unnerved and tense and exceedingly uncomfortable. Marth had trouble fully grasping the depths of Link's discomposure. He was confused and rattled himself, busy contemplating earnestly over the possible origins of those scarlet freckles, which he suspected were indefinite _hickeys_. It was ridiculously devious, he thought, as he watched the sheepish Hylian undress. Oh, how his own heart sprinted frantically about it all, pounding and thumping and drumming away in his chest — _wait a second._

Oh, this was just beyond him! How could the royal Altean Prince be so rude and disrespectful, gaping and gawking at the distressed Hylian while he stripped? Shivering timidly beneath Marth's antagonizing gaze, of course Link felt exceptionally uncomfortable! Hastily, the chastened Prince averted his gaze.

"Hey, Link, about the bet…I was just thinking."

_It's a horrible idea, Link, and you were right about it. Oh, what have I gotten you into?_ Pensive and repentant, Marth recalled the humiliating incident in the cafeteria earlier that day, how the disgraced expression on the shattered Hylian's face pierced straight through him, stabbing him painfully with guilt and shame. Of course that entire parade wasn't what Marth anticipated. All the mortification and embarrassment that Link suffered publicly, none of it was organized or scheduled by him. Everything simply plummeted downhill by itself, when everyone began toying around, thoroughly entertained by the display. It was _sickening_, shaming the humbled Altean Prince for even plotting against the poor Hylian in the first place. _It's my fault. It's my horrible idea_ _— my terrible and dreadful and absolutely awful idea._

"W-what is it?" Sheepish and hasty, Link coyly slipped into his pajama pants, which looked much too big on someone as petit as him. He was still shirtless at this point, but at least he was decently clothed, concealing those appealing legs. As Marth laid his observant eyes upon the bashful Hylian once again, he refrained himself from scoffing angrily.

_Ugh_, the first thing his vigilant eyes landed on just had to be those numerous _hickeys_, noticeably shameful and red, sprinkled possessively across Link's neckline. Oh, it just made him boil inside, his infuriated rage bubbling and fuming from just below the surface. Who was the lecherous bastard responsible for those lewd markings? Taking advantage of such a gullible situation and profiting hideously from Link's bare condition, it was _despicable_! Miffed and displeased by this fraudulent deed, Marth would never tolerate it, grimacing in frustration.

"What about the bet, Marth?" Link spoke sheepishly as he quickly threw on a shirt, shooting a glimpse of genuine curiosity in his direction. Oh, how remarkably innocent and self-conscious and naïve he seemed, swaying and wavering coyly to himself like that, it was ridiculous! Why, it almost fueled the seething flames within him!

Why couldn't he simply repel the wrongdoers, offenders, and perpetrators away? It should be absolutely effortless, driving their lustful attentions elsewhere. But instead, whatever this unexpectedly vulnerable Hylian did magnetized everyone, fascinating, enticing, unknowingly charming them, like bears to honey. Oh, was he even aware of those obvious blemishes he had scattered on his peachy skin?

For some reason, it seriously irritated the Altean Prince to know that those undesirable scarlet freckles were there, that someone had the coveting nerve to assault Link at a dramatic time like this, and that most of all, honestly _he_ was at fault for even encouraging the blond Hylian into that stupid bet._ If you would only forgive me, Link, I'm so sorry for everything that's happened to you._

"I'm calling it off." Marth finally said, recollecting himself with a hefty sigh. From the corner of his eye, he caught this incredulous expression adorning that cute face. At once he realized what a massive mistake it was to even consider ridiculing this innocent Hylian, who was clearly much more inexperienced, fragile, and naïve than expected.

"What? What are you saying?"

"You should forget about the bet. You really don't have to force yourself into enduring that humility for another day. It's pointless. You don't prove anything from doing something that outrageous." Skillfully pulling himself together, yet another professional simper was plastered onto Marth's handsome face, as charming and cordial as ever. He appeared kind, burying his heated anger beneath that pleasant smile. And his enchanting eyes were gentle, affectionately pampering Link's timid body with soft gazes. "You should wear your undergarments tomorrow. It's okay."

"B-but that's just, I don't know, Marth. It's very sudden, m-maybe too sudden actually. Besides, I-I like to keep to my promises, n-no matter what, I mean, so I probably shouldn't."

"I insist, Link. It's too much, isn't it?" There he went again, speaking so calmly, all cool and alluring. His voice alone was fluent and smooth, melting the frosted uncertainties in the room, sweetly coiling itself around the bewildered Hylian's chilly shoulders and tenderly kissing the coldness away.

_Why are you calling it off _now_, Marth? Everything's already happened, and no matter what we do, it won't change. What are you trying to pull?_ Bashfully ignoring the genial Altean Prince's amiable stare, Link argued passionately in his head, unable to find his hushed voice to bite back with as much ferocity. _Are you testing me? Is this just another mind game of yours? What are you trying to do to my head?_

Link had a resolute dignity and pride. He simply couldn't and wouldn't yield to such pitiful weaknesses. Surrendering to his pathetic fear of further embarrassment would immediately mean his resolve had been defeated, that he lost, that he didn't deserve the noble title as a courageous hero. After all, a "courageous hero" wouldn't easily back down from a fight, they wouldn't submit to tougher enemies, they wouldn't bow down to stronger opponents — they would fight through it valiantly to the end, always fearless and brave. And although this laughable bet wasn't a typical hurdle for an adventurous knight, it was still a problem Link simply had to grit his teeth and plow through.

"No." With a renewed valor, Link finally spoke up, that dim flame of boldness igniting within him. And as the revitalized Hylian felt himself kindle a thriving fire, he saw the baffled expression accommodating Marth's face, incredulous and astonished.

"What do you mean, '_no_'?"

"I think I'll do the same thing tomorrow." Link proclaimed with illuminating eyes, nervously putting his rumpled tunic away as Marth's penetrating eyes positioned themselves intently on his back. "I know it probably sounds crazy, I can hardly believe I'm saying this myself, but, I feel like if I can handle this for another day, I've overcome some obstacle. You know? I mean, I-I know I would have your approval about wearing my precious undergarments once again, but, I feel like I would lose that way. I've never felt such embarrassment before, Marth. I need to get over it."

For a moment, there was this glint of discontent and perhaps anger flashing in the Altean Prince's eyes, as if there was an obvious reason to persist against Link's outrageous decision. It was an unhappy glower, like daggers clawing and digging into the Hylian's tense skin, and it almost soiled the whole conversation with its cutting sourness. Fortunately this fearsome scowl didn't last long. Soon enough, with a hefty sigh, Marth succumbed to the stubborn Hylian's pigheadedness.

"Alright, I understand, Link. It's your choice, after all." Charmingly lifting himself out of his seat, Marth appeared refined and courtly, as if absolutely nothing displeased him. And he talked with this charm, this well-mannered lure, and this gentlemanly smile Link swore could have deceived people before. "But feel free to wear your tights. You know the bet is formally dismissed."

Returning a courteous smile, Link watched the noble Prince stride gallantly towards the door as the wooden floorboards underneath them squeaked. "I'll keep that in mind, Marth."

"Good night, Link."

"Good night."

And just like that the chivalrous Altean Prince was gone.

In his absence, this empty feeling of loneliness quickly situated itself in the room. Dread accompanied it, which demoralized Link and certainly startled his nerves. But his resolve and determination was still intact, and although it didn't exactly filter out _all_ of the pessimistic sadness lingering in the room, it banished at least _some_ of it. Exhausted with the nuisance of thoughts revolving around his misfortune, the tired Hylian heaved a burdened sigh.

With half-lidded eyes, Link eventually regained himself and stalked over to his bed, wearily dropping onto its warm blankets that casually rumpled beneath him. Hurling the sheets over his drowsy body, the fatigued Hylian immediately sank into the mattress. At once his rambling mind began to wander, and contemplation sprouted within his thoughts.

Another big day tomorrow, that was for sure, meaning another drama bomb to be imposed on his usually delightful life. Well, regardless, Link sternly avowed that whatever the other bantering residents would throw at him, it wouldn't work. This time, he would definitely pull through and conquer the hysterical embarrassment he would face, climbing out of the emotional turmoil and claiming victory triumphantly once and for all. He would simply treat tomorrow as he would any other day. Just because he lacked his precious tights didn't necessarily mean his entire world was just going to spiral downward. That was ridiculous!

As the snickering Hylian grinned proudly to himself, he felt himself gradually toss and turn, wrestling with the harmless sheets. All of a sudden breathing heavily and unconsciously furrowing his brows, Link sweltered anxiously and felt drastic temperatures consume him, both warm and cold. Oh, something interrupted his dreamy willpower and callously protruded through his thoughts, his bravery diminishing and vanishing slowly. Doubt quickly took its place, replacing the temporary bliss and poisoning his mind with fear and panic and terrifying memories — _Ike_.

Link felt his anguished heart wither, shriveling up and wilting pitifully like a neglected flower, full of this grave pain and distress as his chest shrank.

Ike — what was he doing now? Perhaps, was it conceivable, the mercenary felt terribly guilty about his actions after all? The apologetic look in those panic-stricken eyes was remorseful, drowned in a solemn regret and shame. In fact, the somber Hylian almost felt his churning insides flutter excitedly about such a bizarre possibility, desperately wanting to believe in Ike's pure kindheartedness, to have faith in their moral chastity, to keep their close relationship.

Oh, but of course his bitter thoughts quickly turned sour with somber gloom, for no matter how awfully sorry Ike was, it didn't change what he did. How could the wistful Hylian even consider seeing the dirty mercenary under the same light? He was absolutely filthy, shameful, and disgraceful, having done such wretched and horrendous deeds, and to another man, no less. Certainly that episode between them was quite the display, a brilliant performance of lust, treachery, and severed bonds all within a short span of time. How would Ike respond if it weren't the chagrined Hylian playing in such a shameless scene with him? Would he do the same things? Would he have avoided it? Would he have taken it a step further, instead?

For some reason, his heart throbbed.

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_Look Forward to the Next Chapter!_

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**Side Notes:**

**-** Okay! Well, the story is slowly progressing, but look on the bright side — at least it's _progressing_!

**-** I must apologize for how lengthy I make the chapters! I'm a fast and furious reader, and whenever I proofread my own work, I always feel as though I'm leaving wide gaps and enormous holes where there should be more words. But as I have read your generous reviews, I realize much too late how I'm pretty much shoving all these meaningless words down your throats, or well, your eyes? Regardless, I will definitely try to control myself! This chapter wasn't as heavy, was it? I hope not!

**-** This is kind of irrelevant, but, to those it may concern, I've already established the whole plotline, or well, somewhat. It's a little sketchy, though. I'm planning on a total of ten chapters, — I feel like any less, it's not enough, but with more, it's too much, — and I kind of already devised what shall happen in the next four chapters. That's okay, right?

**-** By the way, you know how in the previous chapter, Ike was a dastardly criminal for what he did? Yeah, I actually never intended for him to even _touch_ Link, or at least not in a sensual way. Originally I just wanted to illustrate how upset Ike was by making him angry. I honestly don't know what pushed me to make him molest Link. I kind of regret it. I mean, now my planning has gone kind of awry because, well, it's harder to get over sexual assaults rather than angry confessions, isn't it?


	7. Day 2 Morning — Situation sans espoir

"The Bet He Lost"

By animefan752

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**Caution:** Well, I think I've pretty much covered most of the possible warnings in the previous chapters. Luckily, this chapter is much milder and probably more disheartening. But we are definitely building up to something!

**Disclaimer:** Super Smash Bros does not belong to me. As always, it belongs to Nintendo and company, respectively.

**A/N:** Oh, I've been lacking the time, my sweet readers! Lately I've been terribly busy with school affairs. I mean, my teachers have stacked assignments one on top of the other, and ever since, I have been juggling my subjects around — and let me just say I am a _horrendous_ juggler. Quite frankly, I don't even know _how_ to juggle. Well, that goes without saying, I don't handle stress well.

Fortunately, I somehow managed to climb out of the towering mountain of work and finished this chapter! Well, I most certainly hope you are all as eager as I am!

* * *

Dreary, blurry, and dazed, Link slowly fluttered his eyes open and found himself entwined in his chaotic bed sheets. Morning chills repeatedly kissed his numb skin. Of course, at the moment he hasn't exactly regained his thoughts and neither has reality completely checked in yet, so right now the melancholic Hylian could only drift in this void of perpetual stupor and lethargy. With another blink and some bleary swipes at his clouded eyes, Link briefly captured the sight of his disheveled tunic sitting on the dresser.

For a moment, the disoriented Hylian felt delirious and bizarre, scrutinizing that special green garb and contemplating over the unfastened strings. Oh, wait, didn't he just have an awfully similar dream, with an almost uncanny resemblance, about how disturbing and violating and inappropriate things were? He could even recall most of the occurrences in his upsetting dream, the several infiltrations, the shameless hands, the touching and — wait, _that was real._

That actually happened.

Goodness gracious, this definitely knocked the wind out of Link, as his astounded expression snapped his eyes wide open and an instantaneous pressure squeezed at his chest. Suddenly this hollow feeling of emptiness engulfed him, recollecting the hopeless memories of the day before. One after the other, events of absolute humiliation swept down and pierced through his limp body. In fact, his each and every breath shuddered with desolation, lacking any enthusiasm. Fleeting images of the many cruel and deceitful grins flickered through his unnerved mind, hearing the countless jeers, taunts, and catcalls that were hurled at him yesterday.

_Damn it, Link, why does it seem so hard to just suck it up? Throughout your life you've already encountered several other problems and defeated so many villains, — why is this bet any different?_ Overwhelmed by the current state of affairs, this hectic mess that couldn't be ignored and certainly could never be swept under a rug, the anxious Hylian struggled to swallow his hindering thoughts, feeling much too heavy to pick himself up. Perhaps even the necessary hunger wouldn't be enough to yank him out of bed. Oh, he was carved entirely out of rock, dead and unmoving and completely unmotivated. What a terrible feeling.

Well, hopefully today Link would have a better grasp on his wilting composure. After all, he could only blame himself for stupidly digging his own grave and acknowledging that horrific day for another nude catastrophe. He was the one who willingly chose this course of action, no matter how terrifying. Where did he ever get that imprudent bravado? Some bold audacity that must have been to convince the stunned Hylian into another painful day of embarrassment!

"There's no escaping it, I suppose." Sighing for perhaps the umpteenth time already, Link deliberately heaved himself out of bed with much difficulty. Grudging and reluctant, he lugged his heavy body towards the dresser, where his rumpled tunic was perched upon in grim silence.

Once the burdened Hylian approached the bureau, he hesitantly touched his trademark tunic, which was still as soft and comfortable as always, but had a lingering feeling about it. Seemingly tainted and soiled, Link felt exceptionally worse about it, ruining such renowned apparel. It was revered, forever a valued memoir of the past heroes of Hyrule time and time again, and now what has he done? It was a victim to such filthy pursuits, fouled and stained all because the foolish Hylian got involved in some ridiculous matters. Oh, how could he? Inhaling deep breaths and burying his forlorn guilt, he apologized to the Goddesses above for his stupidity, for tarnishing such esteemed attire, and for daring to repeat such a distasteful act.

Stripping off his present clothes and carelessly tossing them onto his mattress, Link unenthusiastically dressed into his olive-green tunic. Oh, how the fabric itself was unbearably unclean, due to the fact that his bare skin had already made contact with that precious cloth, even during those bewildering assaults. There were lewd hands everywhere last night, dirtying and defiling _everything_. Remorseful and swelling with melancholy, Link glanced hopelessly at the mirror.

_Oh no._

Speechless, a reflection of the baffled Hylian's expression gazed back at him with wide eyes, appearing startled and alarmed. He never realized it until now, but there they were, those dangerous _hickeys_ littering his crimson skin. Scattered around his collarbone, neck, and even his quivering shoulders, scarlet freckles were sprinkled upon Link's flesh. Instantly the distressed Hylian was thrown into a panic, remembering vividly each caress, each stroke, — each and every kiss. Feverish, he felt confined and stifled, recalling the bombardment of kisses that assailed his skin, without love or affection, but only an unquenchable lust.

This definitely presented yet another problem, yet another meddlesome hurdle to leap over. Oh, what the hell was Link supposed to do about these damn hickeys? Would it be considered twisting around the bet rules if he simply wore something over them? Marth did admit to being much more merciful and lenient about the stern bet, ever since yesterday's appalling charade spiraled horribly out of control. Last night they had the chance to exchange some enlightening words of reassurance, which certainly uplifted the downcast Hylian, comforted by that charming Altean Prince. For a brief moment Link felt this heartening warmth embrace him, his sun-kissed cheeks powdery pink with relief — but back to the matter at hand! Goodness!

"Oh, maybe I-I can throw on a scarf and call it a day. Wait, it's much too warm for that, and everyone will definitely ask questions. Ah, I know, perhaps I can try applying some bandages over them! If anyone inquires me about them, devising some lame excuse won't be too difficult, will it?" Blinking rapidly and blushing profusely and perhaps embarrassed about it all, Link timidly brushed the thought of that courteous Altean Prince away and scampered on over to the drawer containing the helpful first aid kit.

With trembling hands, the bashful Hylian awkwardly snatched whatever bandages he could find, tore off the neat paper and plastic, and hastily placed them on himself, shredding through the emergency supply of gauze and bands. How Link couldn't stand the slimmest glimpse of those inappropriate blotches, he didn't want to see them, not the slightest trace of them! And so, with only the ragged sound of tearing adhesives, the reckless Hylian eventually finished his absurd task and felt the many unnecessary bindings fastened onto his flesh, restricting much of his arm and shoulder movement.

Feeling accomplished, Link strode confidently back to the mirror and immediately found this frenzied mess of bandages gawking back at him, frustrated and unsatisfied. _Fantastic_, he was a walking _mummy_, and one who seemed to have awkwardly run out of wrapping material. Well, people were definitely going to express their perplexed confusion and give him strange looks. He should have just stuck with the scarf idea.

"I guess it's too late for that. I guess I might as well deal with this ridiculous look. I mean, if I look on the bright side, it's possible this might even take people's minds off of this…exposed skin. Alright then, breakfast, right, right. I need to eat. This isn't hard." Fighting to remain positive, Link focused on optimistic thoughts and happiness and joyful buoyancy. With some self-assurance, he persuaded himself into concentrating on a sunny outcome, where he would redeem himself, everyone would respect him, and all would be splendid and perfectly swell. Of course, memories of yesterday's chaotic morning would certainly beg to differ, but the blond Hylian disregarded his pestering doubts and qualms as he stepped towards the door.

When he casually grabbed the door handle, another excruciating memory shot through him like a needle penetrating through his entire body, causing a searing pain to pinch his nerves. At once there was a brief picture of a familiar face that triggered a pang of devastating regret to tug on his innermost heart strings. For that one second, Link couldn't even breathe, recognizing that friendly smile that could brighten up anyone's day, that considerate smile that kindled a pleasant flame within the surrounding people, that kindhearted smile that pulled the sun up from beneath the horizon. It belonged to no one else but that damn mercenary, Ike, who was responsible for a great fraction of his insecurities.

Oh, suddenly Link remembered endeavoring in some bizarre stunt yesterday morning, due to a little misunderstanding, but Ike was remarkably tolerant about it. He was no ill-mannered nuisance. After all, the patient mercenary didn't torment, boo, or mock him. Without fussing, they gladly fetched breakfast together — their daily routine.

_Get a grip, Link._ With a hefty sigh, the troubled Hylian opened the door, which peeped in excitement.

Just as he expected, Ike wasn't there to greet him today.

Swallowing his anxieties, Link drowned in his overflowing thoughts, these cluttered emotions of anger and sorrow. He was drenched in anguish, conflicted about how to join the severed thread between them, assuming their bittersweet relationship took a drastic turn for the worse. This unfathomable loneliness ached, and the wistful Hylian kind of hoped in some outlandish fantasy of his that Ike would still be willing to at least make an appearance or something, despite all odds.

Deliberate and lonesome, Link took his time fetching breakfast, taking slow steps. For the most part, it was pretty silent in the elegant halls, with the exception of his leather boots upon the decorative floor, echoing throughout the stately mansion. Then again, there was no one to strike a conversation with, no one to chat and have discussions with. Oh, how the despair burrowed within him, sprouting into misery.

Eventually he arrived at the bustling cafeteria, which was busy chattering away as always, with people nonchalantly parading in and out. Of course, it was never actually filled to the brim with every Brawler, since tournaments were constantly being scheduled and everyone had different routines, but it was busy blathering away nonetheless.

As the distraught Hylian strolled inside and ambled through the swaying double doors, he felt extremely detached and isolated. Not only did everyone gradually distance themselves further and further away at the mere sight of him, they grew quieter and quieter whenever he passed by. With critical eyes darting in his direction, everyone kept covertly to their groups and gossiped amongst themselves, which honestly only made Link feel even more abandoned, like the third wheel, the odd man out, the sore thumb. It was an exceedingly disheartening situation. Oh, how the flustered Hylian never wanted to shrink away into oblivion so badly in his life.

Judgmental and cold, everyone appeared to be avoiding Link, cutting him completely out of the picture. In fact, no one bothered to even _attempt_ to communicate with him — it was beyond depressing, to say the least. Why, he could hear the countless whispered mentions of his name buzzing around, which probably only butchered his good reputation. Downcast, the hopeless Hylian really tried to pay no attention to their hideous rumors, nervously scurrying to the kitchen and desperately wishing this unease would simply vanish. Oh, perhaps this unsettling hollowness felt even worse than yesterday's unyielding taunts and jeers.

How lonely.

Oh, usually this incredibly lonesome feeling never fully embedded itself inside of Link, never taking root and poisoning his restless thoughts with the venomous misery of loneliness, because normally he wouldn't be all alone. Maybe his friends and acquaintances — including even the obnoxious ones, — were simply occupied, assigned to dutiful tournaments and fully engrossed in engaging one another in battle. That couldn't be helped, could it? Otherwise they would've definitely accompanied him, right?

_Come on, Link, remember what you came here for! Breakfast!_ Silently entering the glorious kitchen, Link roughly prepared his morning grub and stubbornly ignored the surfacing memories of being together with _friends_. As the frustrated Hylian irately shoved a piece of bread in his mouth, he quickly snatched a chilled bottle of milk from the refrigerator and stormed out. _Who cares what people think of you? You're independent, you're courageous. You don't need them or their approval. They don't prevail, and they certainly don't control your life. It's okay._

Exasperated and crestfallen, Link figured he would just gulp down his pathetically lonesome breakfast in the soothing privacy of his own room, heading towards the swinging double doors.

Of course, streaming and marching happily was this lively bundle of people swarming inside, most likely fresh from a recent brawl. It wasn't much of a commotion at all, but casual and talkative, neighborly and social, a very colorful blur of colleagues that for some reason caught Link's intrigued eye. Yes, the baffled Hylian actually found himself chasing and following this boisterous party with mild fascination, finding their amused faces, their tender presences, their kind smiles, — and _Ike_.

Link froze. That unruly mop of indigo hair, those unreasonably flamboyant garments, and that red cape that always cascaded frivolously behind him, it must have been _that_ mercenary. There he was, conversing halfheartedly with Luigi and Falco, who both prattled and yammered on to him nonstop. With a nonchalant grin, Ike chuckled pleasantly at their stupid jokes and eagerly talked about the brawl they'd just fought, debating over the possible outcomes had they done things differently.

_Ike—_

For some peculiar reason profound to Link, he found this scene irresistibly frustrating. Oh, there the miserable Hylian was, practically drowning in the agonizing depths of his own mortification, and yet that social mercenary moved on living his luxurious and plush life, acting as if nothing had ever happened! How? Didn't he care? Was that supposedly benevolent mercenary even concerned in the slightest? What was that misleading flash of guilt in his eyes last night?

Did he ever care?

Blinded by this traitorous picture of betrayal, Link didn't know whether to be absolutely furious or just feel sorry for himself. Spotting this unfazed Ike going on about his relaxed life only made things worse. After all, every single day usually Ike would be there to help him, accompany him, and make him feel perfectly comfortable. Without the friendly mercenary and his sunny attitude, it seemed as though Link was totally helpless on his own. In fact, Ike's absence was such a dreadful loss, it enveloped the shriveling Hylian in immense grief, as if a gaping hole had torn through his body and only barren despair was willing to fill it.

Oh, but why did Link even feel this heavy emptiness in the first place? Before he had ever even met Ike, he embarked on journeys alone, roaming distant lands, solving various puzzles, and discovering unique dungeons by himself. Why did Ike's absence make any difference? Wasn't he a lone wolf?

Shuddering beneath this depressing shadow of unhappiness, the miserable Hylian felt as though he was covered with this particularly cold blanket soaked in anguish. Rattled, Link was lost and hurt. It was as if the wholesome connection between them never even existed! As the deceptive mercenary eventually blended into his surroundings, joining the boisterous chatter of the social dining hall, the forlorn Hylian waned and departed quietly out the doors.

Ha, expect nothing less from Ike! He was undeniably popular, after all, talented and welcoming and handsome. Of course he would never actually be largely affected by the lack of one measly friend, of one forsaken friend, of one sorrowful friend the guilty mercenary had boldly harassed. Besides, Ike had plenty of other delighted acquaintances to draw loyally to his side, right?

_We're no longer friends, are we?_

Gradually, breathing became difficult and walking became a troublesome task, when Link felt his unsteady legs waver beneath him, exposed and cold and especially bothersome. Not only that, but something uncomfortable and dull surfaced within his hollow body, rousing this painful series of aches that only further ruffled his windswept feathers. Well, the blond Hylian couldn't distinguish the excruciating complications apart, but regardless, he pigheadedly ignored the complexities of the situation, struggling to recover from the clawing twinges and intricacies of solitude.

Along the polished corridors of the refined mansion, Link felt that once radiant optimism quickly diminish. Nothing remained but this negative impression of Ike and this everlasting tautness that stubbornly kept stiffening inside him, as if his limp heart had finally decided to yield to this idea of seclusion, building this rigid stone wall around its own delicate fragility and succumbing to the sturdiness of isolation — like the famous _Tin Man_, who had no heart to begin with. Without the disadvantages of a sensitive heart, he could never possibly be hurt. It was logical, a protective form of defense.

As his leather boots pressed against the exquisite mansion floors, an immense yet utterly blank echo bounced and ricocheted against the decorative walls. Like before, the expanse of the colossal mansion appeared as any deserted castle would, without a single person loitering in the hallways but with fancy tapestries, embroidered flags, goose-feather paintings, and displays of silver armory aligned in defined arrangements. Hopeless, the depressed Hylian never felt so distraught and _alone_.

He sighed.

Suddenly his keen ears picked up on someone else's graceful footsteps. Tapping and clicking loudly with nimble poise, it definitely sounded like they were heading in Link's direction. And then, upon arrival, as if the grand mansion had exclusively personified itself in a representative form, what appeared before the bewildered Hylian was this charming woman who had a familiar presence of influential authority.

"Link, there you are." Pleasing to the eye but at the same time crushingly judgmental, it was the chivalrous Princess Zelda, with her mannerly composure and piercing eyes. Strolling towards him with stately confidence, she came to a dainty halt and promptly scrutinized the baffled Hylian who blinked timidly in reply. "I've been looking for you."

For a brief moment, Link felt a little intimidated and offended by her lengthy pauses, her sharp eyes determining some conclusion to draw from his disheveled appearance. Was the critical Zelda terribly disappointed by some reckless decision he made? Was it conceivable to suspect her for raising expectations? Did she actually want him to lose and disregard the frivolous bet? Did she spread some lethal rumor that she now had to clean up after? She must have done something.

Heaving with a hefty sigh, Link reluctantly raised his blond head, strands of his luminously golden hair brushing gently across his hesitant face. "What is it?"

"I've come to inform you about the upcoming tournament later this afternoon. You're appointed as one of the participating contestants." Ever radiantly beautiful and straightforward, the divine Princess of Hyrule returned a fearless gaze without the slightest glimmer of insecurity. Although, very faintly there was certain softness beneath Zelda's eyes that revealed at least some form of genuine concern. With graceful posture and strict eyes, she disguised her kindness with the mask of her stern elegance. "I figured you might not have known. If you didn't show up for the tournament, you _are_ aware of how much trouble that would lead to, right? Absence is forbidden. You would be punished by the authorities, not to mention Master Hand."

Oh, how absolutely _marvelous_. Of course it was just too much to ask to avoid those public tourneys, which were openly broadcasted throughout the vast mansion and practically engraved the ultimate demise of one's reputation, which in this particular case was Link's tainted name.

Yes, the miserable Hylian knew very well the terrifying deposit of numbers that would haunt him during each brawl. After all, he could only anticipate and fear in anxiousness at what could happen in mere minutes. As the timer's valuable seconds ticked away in excruciating suspense, quickly vanishing into thin air, Link was definitely aware of how much could happen even in such a short allotment of time. And especially now, as the blond Hylian appeared ever hideously to the public, the possibilities of some unsightly catastrophe surfacing — the list of probable disasters became endless!

"It most definitely is your decision to make, Link, but it would lift some of the weight off of my chest if you attended the tournament and avoided the potential consequences." Rigid yet by some means gentle, the formidable Princess Zelda spoke with reassuring sympathy. Although her unyielding eyes could tell another story through their severely knife-like stare, there was still an attempt at compassion, an attempt to reach out in sincere comfort.

_I suppose I might as well. I deserve such dishonorable penalties, driving my friends away, digging my own grave — oh, what a fool I am._ Doubt was finally seeping through his apprehensive skin, slowly but surely poisoning the insecure Hylian with the toxic venom of uneasiness. With an aching pinch of regret jerking and wrenching at his tangled heartstrings, Link hesitantly sucked in a breath, shrugged reluctantly, and acknowledged his duty with a few quiet nods.

"Oh, it may not be plainly evident, but you've just carried a heavy burden off of my shoulders, Link." She smiled, this almost suspicious kindness throwing the alarmed Hylian off guard. It was difficult to truthfully accept such benevolence after feeling such vicious betrayal from his allegedly closest friend, who seemed to feign his welcoming attitude, appearing unconcerned, recovering so quickly from the past events, socializing normally. And yet, perhaps Zelda was merely skilled in performing arts, as she glowed with relief and beauty.

Was it feasibly possible — the noble Princess of Hyrule was actually worried about his wellbeing? Oh, such savory warmth swelled inside of the faint Hylian, erupting in sweet bursts of joy. For this one meager instant, Link felt infinitely less lonely and bashfully glimpsed up at Zelda's elegant face, his cherry-red cheeks flushed in grateful tenderness. "Um, thank you. I'll be sure to make an appearance."

"I certainly hope so. That would be the wisest choice." With a polite smile, the regal Princess Zelda responded courteously, her eloquent words gliding smoothly to the perplexed Hylian. But just as soon as she adorned that concerned smile, it perished into a thin line and instead her penetrating eyes narrowed in solemn gravity. Suddenly those brilliant pools of vibrant blue were blatantly perturbed, as if swimming fretfully in an ocean of unsettled waters. "You ought to properly prepare yourself before then, Link. This approaching competition is a stock tournament, as you may know, and there are several involved besides you. I advise you take absolute precaution, and keep your eyes peeled."

_Huh?_

Well, of course Link didn't exactly know every littlest detail about the dignified Princess Zelda, but he knew her well enough to recognize the apparent urgency in her sharp eyes and the perceptible grimness in the tone of her voice. But what was she trying to get across? Where did this abrupt distress even come from? Why was she carefully warning him, cautioning him, saying all of this all of a sudden?

"Your Highness, what do you mean?"

"I suppose it's safe to assume you're tired and exhausted after yesterday's ill-fated events. Beating around the bush simply won't cut it today, will it?" Her porcelain face was perhaps as remote as any refined doll, but there was a kindhearted tenderness that brought the delicate Princess Zelda to life, powdering her flawless complexion in tints and shades of pink — the perfection of rosiness. With a bitter smile, the pristine doll sighed in reluctance and straightened her gaze. "For you, I will make it short and sweet, Link. There are some people assigned to the same imminent tourney, and I know they might have a drastic impact on your performance during battle. I honestly hope they don't end up meeting you onstage by mere chance, but sometimes luck simply isn't on your side."

For some reason, his heart was racing with this ferocity beyond his control. Link could feel it lurch, violently propelling itself against his ribcage. At that moment, his eardrums throbbed rhythmically to the pace of his rampaging heart, which hurtled and pounded and struck dangerously at his tight chest. Feeling the constraints of his taut ribcage restrain the pulsing lump within, the tense Hylian was overwhelmed by a feverish impatience, watching intently at each movement of Zelda's graceful lips.

"Link, the tournament features Ike and Snake too."

Oh, goodness.

Of course, within mere _seconds_ his intolerable curiosity was fed with an almost ridiculous truth, it was perhaps unbelievable! What were the odds of such a coincidence taking place? Obviously there weren't many residents of the bustling mansion to begin with, but honestly, Link truly felt that any logical escape route was beyond his reach. Every reasonably visible door was closing, and the walls were gradually caving in on him, imprisoning the morose Hylian to brood and sulk in his lonesome, to suffer in this emotional turmoil in which Link never even experienced before.

At once his heart frantically skipped a beat, leaping fiercely into the next century as it inflated into the size of a swollen blimp. While that bloated heart grew two sizes too large to even accommodate the confining ribcage that was two sizes too small, the frenzied Hylian could only recollect a blur of repulsive memories that figuratively slapped him in the face.

"I don't know every detail about the impending tournament since everything is tentative, so I'm definitely not guaranteeing anything or setting anything in stone, but I wanted to let you know. There is a possibility of encountering them, Link, and as you are, you might have some upcoming dilemmas to face. It certainly is quite the burden to carry, but I know you can make it." Once again the grandeur of the Princess of Hyrule gave the impression of a rehearsed marionette with glossy eyes, when she spoke smoothly in encouragement and touched his arm, appearing ever bright and pleasant and compassionate.

In response, there was a scattered look of bewilderment on Link's face, his furrowed eyebrows leaving puzzled creases on his forehead. Well, it was reasonable to be perplexed. How in the Great Goddess' names did Zelda know about his current state of affairs? How could she ever understand his undying discomfort in the possibility of battling Ike or Snake? Did she possibly investigate the roots of his misfortune? Or, even worse, was she a witness to the scene of the crime?

"By the look in your eyes, I can tell you're lost." The refined porcelain doll, this pristine Princess Zelda, glanced piercingly through him, her unyielding eyes calm and wise. She was impartial to Link's hysteria, her expressionless face ever flawlessly remote as she addressed his panic with the delightful curve of her two pink lips. "How could I ever possibly know about your insecurities and unease? How could I have known about your blatant discomfort towards Ike and Snake, is that what you're thinking?"

_How?_

Of course, despite her judgmental approach, the Princess of Hyrule was quite experienced in the field of diplomacy and discretion, granting her patience, tolerance, and influence. In fact, Link had never heard or seen her shed a single tear. After all, the prominent Princess Zelda exuded an almost natural confidence and maturity, her polished mask was a refinement of sophistication. It shouldn't surprise Link how conscious she was of his dishonorable issues. She was exceedingly intelligent, known for her capability to interpret effortlessly. Still, the troubled Hylian felt his privacy had been breached, exposing his ultimate disgrace and shame. His heart throbbed.

What if she'd already spread some honest details about it? Did she perhaps mention this to other people, bickering and gossiping at the succulent juiciness of his miserable situation? Did everyone know already? Was that why everyone awkwardly distanced themselves from him?

"Well, let's just say I have my ways. Besides, you know I _am_ the wise one. Putting diverse pieces together, deciphering puzzles, and solving the most impossible riddles, those are my strengths. And if you haven't noticed already, they've both been acting strangely today, unlike their usual selves. That kind of puts them off as very suspicious, don't you think?" Delicate but cruelly blunt, Princess Zelda spoke with a thin smile, and as always her penetrating eyes intimidated Link, causing him to uncomfortably avoid direct eye contact. "I'm sure you have noticed the deliberate changes in their personalities, correct? Wasn't your close friend Ike acting differently towards you today, Link?"

_Yes._

"Now I would never want to alarm you, Link, but I _have_ done a little research — well, I've actually gathered information without too much scrutinizing. Of course I know I can never be absolutely certain what I hear is the actual truth, but it has been exceptionally bizarre. Sometimes I honestly cannot believe my ears, and I cannot tell whether or not to trust what some consider is the truth, but when I make sense out of everything, it's unbelievably displeasing."

At this point, Link wasn't necessarily directing his attention entirely on the studious Princess Zelda's reflective evaluation. Right now all the ruffled Hylian could actually contemplate over was the indifferent mercenary, who was probably joking carelessly in some brawl without the slightest care in this forsaken world, and how absolutely _pathetic_ Link was in comparison. Was he this much a lonesome sap on his own? Did that damned mercenary leave such a dramatic impact as to carve a gaping hole in the dismayed Hylian? Oh, did he ever even surface as a second thought of Ike's, at least?

Blinking rapidly as his unnerved thoughts swarmed him with bitter imagination, Link felt gulped entirely in grave anguish. Dramatic temperatures overwhelmed him, stirring this dizziness to surge through and belittle the chagrined Hylian, who struggled to focus his attention on the regal Princess of Hyrule, his unsettled insides lurching and staggering within him. Once Link captured the solemn gaze of Zelda's lightning eyes, those blazing sapphire gems, he felt true reality grasp him firmly. In a matter of seconds his flighty surroundings ceased to spin, and he was instantly doubtful of reality's truthful cruelty.

"You must be wondering: how does it all piece together?" Whispering closely as if this were the world's most dire secret, Zelda courteously touched the anxious Hylian's narrow shoulder and smiled pleasantly. Beautiful and refined, she took on that porcelain doll charade easily, her persona perfect. When she politely glanced up with those glossy eyes, they emerged as any purely sapphire marbles would, remarkably gorgeous and meticulous, while her unblemished skin remained pink and retained that luscious rosiness, powdered upon her cheeks naturally. "It does not take a genius to make sense out of ludicrous rumors, apply the conditions of the relevant people, and concoct some logical explanation. I simply happened to hit the correct target. But I must say, Link, you are one unexpected person to say the least."

Silent and seemingly hopeless, Link said nothing and stared mindlessly below. At that unresponsive silence, the flawless Princess Zelda respectfully parted from the disheartened Hylian with a polite smile upon her gorgeous face. Preparing delicately for her formal departure, she delivered one last glance of sympathy before dressing in her emotionless façade, leisurely facing the other direction and beginning the independent stroll to her own business.

Although just before those classy shoes could tap repeatedly upon the remarkable mansion floors, she nimbly turned her brunette head around a small degree, this dignified expression adorning her appealing face. "Oh, and before I forget, those excessive bandages you have applied poorly to your wounds are peeling off."

_Those red splotches are scattered along your collarbone, Link, including the back of your neck — and I can still see them._

"Don't worry, I would never expose such a scandalous truth and broadcast it across the Mansion — I'm not that evil." With an almost mischievous grin, that courteous Princess Zelda waved graciously at the baffled expression accommodating Link's face, which was timid and sheepish at her casual dismissal. Of course his confusion was perfectly justified; the befuddled Hylian would have never expected such a dramatic change in attitude from the formidable Princess of Hyrule, who was always rigid with her stern determination and resolve. Well, did she simply pity him in his current position? Could she possibly sympathize with him in such a hopeless situation?

Left to contemplate pensively at his next course of action, Link nonchalantly watched the charming Princess Zelda exit enchantingly. Just as she had done the previous day in the marvelous kitchen, she strode elegantly in the opposing direction. Gracefully permitting her grand dress to billow with each regal step, she departed with the uttermost poise. Little by little, she progressively shrank in size until eventually she was no longer visible, vanishing elegantly into the distance and virtually disappearing from sight. Once again the lonely feeling of absolute isolation and abandonment swept over Link with overpowering tides of agony, but that wasn't the only thing he felt.

There was warmth.

* * *

_Look Forward to the Next Chapter!_

* * *

**Side Notes:**

**-** Oh, congratulations me! I did it! I actually wrote a chapter with less than 7k words! That's a big accomplishment, don't you think?

**-** This was a mild chapter, I know, but we're definitely building up to something — something _scandalous_, dare I say! I needed a chapter to settle the nerves and everything, you know?

**-** I know, I know, Princess Zelda must have some pretty clever tricks up her sleeve to be able to crack the secrets, the hidden affairs, the promiscuous drama sweeping the mansion.

**-** Okay, I'm not pointing fingers or anything, but a little bird has informed me of some discontent among my darling readers! I heard some are unhappy about Snake's character, which is perfectly understandable, given that I've characterized him as some shady man with no respect for hygiene or manners whatsoever. Personally I see Snake as a "cool" character, and I would never want to give the impression that he's a disgusting creep because he's really not. The reason for his gross nature in this story was for the sake of another antagonist. Having Ike as the main "bad guy" was a little off and perhaps misleading. You'll understand a little later once I've clarified some repulsive plot holes in the next few chapters. Besides, I like variety in character.

**-** Alright, well, I've recently encountered some unfortunate mishap. You can call it "technical difficulties," but really, my laptop has just been _very_ uncooperative. Oh, it's beyond frustrating, because it chose the absolutely _best_ time to crash and go haywire — during my fleeting moment of motivation. To be honest, I would have finished this chapter _weeks_ earlier if it hadn't wigged out on me before I could save my progress. As of now, I'm trying to fix it. Hopefully within the next couple weeks, it'll be up and running again and I won't have to resort to pathetically excruciating methods to post chapters.

**-** Any comments, criticisms, remarks, or whatever else you'd like to tell me? Please drop a quick review! I won't respond to you personally, but know that I read each and every one! I take everyone's opinions into dearest consideration! In fact, your support is what motivates me! I run on your thoughts, everyone, — your caring words are the water that quenches my thirsty motivation.


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